Blue Hour
by hopesetfree
Summary: Angels destroyed half of humanity in their prizefight, and never cleaned up their mess. Gabriel Novak cobbles together a decent life for his family, but it all crumbles away when a half-dead archangel from another universe drops out of the sky. He says his name is Samael, and even though Gabriel doesn't like angels, this one just might save the world. (Human!Gabe/Archangel!Sam)
1. Chapter 1

"If you came this way,  
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,  
At any time or at any season,  
It would always be the same."

-T.S. Eliot

* * *

Gabriel groaned from a place deeper than sleep. A memory half-forgotten, dancing from the depths of a nightmare, evaporated away as he blinked awake.

"Dad? Dad!"

The last cloudy remnants of the too-real dream faded. He rubbed at his eyes, his vision just clear enough he could see motes of dust floating in the predawn light of his bedroom. And there stood his little girl, hovering anxiously at the door.

Damn. Second time he'd woken her up in the space of a week with his nightmares.

"Sorry, Sati," he drawled, dragging a sluggish hand over his face. "Sorry I woke you."

"Were you dreaming of Purgatory again?" she asked, dark hair framing her face.

"No," he lied.

She waited, her small fingers hooked on the doorframe. "Uncle Cas said something about demons yesterday."

He loved his brother, but the idiot sometimes had no clue what and what not to say in the presence of a seven-year-old.

"That's only because Uncle Cas used to hunt demons," Gabriel answered, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. "When we still had them."

Still she lingered, and Gabriel watched, waiting for her to leave. "Sati. Go back to bed. It's too early."

She just stared, her tired eyes catching the faint light.

"You're okay?"

A sleepy rumble of laughter fell from his lips. His daughter; his protector. If only he could protect her from the world.

" 'm okay," he answered.

Seemingly satisfied, she nodded and retreated. Gabriel listened to the creaking of the wood under her feet, mentally tracing her footsteps back to her bedroom at the end of the hall.

He considered going back to bed, but his mind seemed just this side of too awake. He didn't have a great chance of getting back to sleep. So with a groan, he rolled to his feet, stretching out stiff limbs and yawning. The ever-present, acrid sting of dust in his chest made him wince, but he'd long become used to it. He didn't know anyone who couldn't take a little dust.

Well, not anymore, at least.

He padded over to the window, the wood creaky and cold beneath his bare feet. The world outside remained shadowed in darkness, but the barest hints of the approaching morning lit the horizon with a blue haze. The wind stirred the crops around, whipping about with force. He frowned, thinking it an early hour for such gusty weather, and wondered what sort of storm they could expect. God, anything but another blackout. Well, maybe not a tornado, but generally, he'd prefer neither.

If only it would rain. Drip all the dust out of the sky, and give them clean, fresh air to breathe for a few hours.

As he stared out the window, wondering what sort of mess lurked in the wind, he sighed. What he wouldn't give for some coffee, especially on a morning like this. Coffee would chase away both the lousy memories and the fog of sleep. He'd pour lots of sugar and cream in his cup. Oh, sure, sugarcane had long died out, but he could sweeten it up with corn sugar just fine. Too bad coffee was long gone, too.

He heard no sign of noise through the wall to his left, where Cas' bedroom sat. What a unusual day for Gabriel to beat his brother getting up.

His feet protested the cold floor again, sending sharp, aching stabs through his skin. It reminded him of a conversation with Cas about the old wool comforters in the attic.

 _"I can unravel them for their wool," Cas had offered. "I want to make Sati an overcoat, and socks for the rest of us."_

Gabriel shuddered to think of the potentially moth-eaten stacks of blankets packed in the attic. He'd tried cooking up some naphthalene for mothballs in his lab a few years back, because the damn moths kept eating up all their old wool (and as with so many things, they wouldn't get any more, either—all the world's sheep slept with the dinosaurs, now). But he'd had his misgivings. Naphthalene, besides smelling awful, had a tendency to catch fire, and he'd nearly had a mini-explosion in his lab. And throwing the stuff to the mercy of the dry, staticky dust in the attic storeroom seemed ripe for starting a fire. The old farmhouse would go up faster than kindling.

He'd briefly considered making dichlorobenzene instead—it would have smelled awful, too, but a stray spark of static electricity wouldn't have lit up the house in a fire. But it proved even more of a bitch to make, which would have held true even if he'd had access to, like... a real lab. Not the converted basement of a hundred-year-old farmhouse he called a lab. And also, he would have never allowed the dangerous ingredients anywhere in Sati's general vicinity.

Never mind that Cas sorta expected him to blow stuff up occasionally.

In the end, he'd given up and wrapped the wool in old plastic wrap, hoping to keep the moths away. He hadn't opened the box in years, so who knew if it had worked.

Gabriel missed Google nowadays. The Internet had been an amazing thing back when he'd been younger. Thirty years ago, some kid would have perfected a way to make all sorts of useful chemicals in their parents' basement. Sure, he'd have attracted the attention of the FBI in the process, but still. Now, Gabriel mostly had to rely on his patchy memory to tell him how to do stuff. And also he relied on memory for the stuff not to do—like the one explosion which almost landed him in a faraway clinic, when he'd made a dumb mistake and added water to an acid.

He had boxes of books in the attic, though, and he guarded those jealously. Textbooks, technical manuals, and a ton of things he'd picked up in an abandoned library with Kali a few years back. They'd packed them up in the best boxes, and padded the empty margins to keep out as much dust as possible. He would have preferred to keep them in the basement, but it leaked sometimes when it rained, and he couldn't afford to ruin those books. The attic got too hot in the summer, but he'd rather have heat-crinkled pages than no pages at all.

He stretched again, tugging at the heavy, wooden door to his closet. A thick pair of work boots, jeans, and a faded, flannel top, all to protect his skin while working in the field. Time to get dressed.

* * *

By the time Cas came downstairs, Gabriel had long since started a fire in the woodstove, and set a kettle on the burner. It probably had lost some of its heat, but he'd already busied himself with a broken welding torch, and couldn't bother to check. The rugged, oak table made the best surface in the house for doing work, after all.

Cas gave him a disapproving glare, and set to work making breakfast. Little Bro always hated it when he played engineer at the kitchen table.

"Any luck?" Cas asked, dispassionate.

Gabriel made a face, not bothering to glance up. "This torch is busted. I need another one."

He set it on the table and massaged his temples, a rush of frustration blooming across his skin. 'Need another one' usually meant 'make another one,' and this one had been hard enough to cobble together in the first place.

Cas quirked an eyebrow. "Then if you are done, might I suggest you clear the table before I begin setting out breakfast."

Gabriel snorted, and thought about making some sort of a comment. Sati wouldn't mind the mess. She'd perk right up, ask how the torch worked, and pester him to let her help. But Cas' tone brooked no argument, so he gathered his crap together and carted it down to the basement. Stored away for another evening, on some day not spent farming.

Vibrant, petite footsteps thumped across the floor above, and Gabriel grinned. He wondered if every seven-year-old danced around so cheerful and bright in the early mornings.

"Don't run down the steps!" he called up the stairway from his basement lab. It didn't matter, because she'd beaten him to it, dark eyes staring down at him triumphant from the kitchen.

"You'll trip and hurt yourself," Cas chided gently.

"Dad says I'm good on my feet," she chirped as Gabriel ascended the staircase.

"Not _that_ good, munchkin," he replied, gliding past her, ruffling her thick hair before reaching for his jacket.

Sati's positively glowed with her resulting smile, lighting up their tired little farmhouse. She resembled her mother far more than Gabriel, with her brown skin and dark, expressive eyes. Kali had loved Sati's hair, black as the deepest night, even as a baby. She'd always wondered if it'd lighten as she grew, but at seven years old, it remained as lovely as it always had.

Gabriel just wished Kali could see it.

"I need to go to town," Cas told him, turning to Sati's place on the table. Her bowl, flipped upside down, had collected a fine layer of dust on its underside. Regardless, Cas cleared his throat, and she flipped it over, eager for breakfast. The basin remained clear of the pervasive dust, so Cas scooped in steaming heaps of corn grits.

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. The same food for breakfast every single morning got old. He peeked at his watch. "Gotta leave to take Sati to school in, oh, twenty minutes?"

"Ten."

"Ten," he repeated, grim. Well, he certainly didn't have time to do much. "All right. Ten minutes. I'll get the truck ready. Don't forget to leave the solar collectors on."

"The fourth panel is broken," Cas reminded him, and Gabriel had to bite on his tongue to not curse. Children in the house and all. "You need another transistor."

Wonderful. He'd need to make a trip to a junkyard somewhere, or maybe the old dump down two counties over. No one could find silicon easily these days, but if he could get his hands on some old electronics, he could build his own replacement parts. Maybe.

He knew he needed to give all the solar batteries a thorough check, to ensure they still stored and discharged power correctly. But it would take hours, maybe days, and as soon as they got back, they had work on the farm to do.

"I can check them," Sati piped up. "I've been reading your book on materials science. I can do it."

Gabriel wanted to high-five his daughter for being so ambitious (even if she couldn't possibly know how to pull it off). A second later, he realized she'd gone digging through the books in the attic again, and sighed. It was bad enough she liked to play in the spare bedroom (or what passed as one) in the attic, much less rifle through the things in the storeroom next to it.

"Sati," he said, "please take care of my books. We're can't get more of those."

"Don't worry," she answered, swallowing around a spoonful of grits. " 'm careful with your stuff."

He couldn't help but smile. He'd taught her all his rotten habits. Cas would have a fit about her talking with her mouth full at any moment.

Gabriel winked at her, and made his way to the screen door. It squeaked as he pushed it open.

"You're not going to eat?" Cas asked, his voice chasing him.

"Not hungry," he tossed over his shoulder, but the wind probably swallowed the noise.

The sky had a gray-brown haze all the way out to the horizon. He remembered days spent as a child, staring up at the sky when it had once been blue—and he could never forget the deep blue he'd seen high in the sky when he'd been a pilot. Down here, it never looked so vibrant. Not anymore, at least.

Just a big, dirty, empty sky. Nothing to do but wake up in the morning, work, and go back to sleep.

His lab projects kept him sane, but Gabriel had no illusions as to his usefulness. He made a lot of gadgets for use around the house, and had practically welded together the solar energy system all by himself. But he knew his sort of restless spirit would have been happy being born a few decades earlier, or maybe, if the world didn't end first, a few decades later.

But things were what they were, and so he spent most of his spare time studying the blight. He scoured books on microbiology and horticulture and all the sciences he neglected when he'd been in college. Sure, he'd taken biology, but the intro courses only taught so much. Gabriel had become a different kind of scientist, and though his skills provided a lot of utility for his family, he really, _really_ wished he'd known how much he'd need an intimate understanding of organic chemistry in his future. Not to mention botany and all the things farmers studied now.

Because that's all anyone did anymore: grow things. Farmers from here to there, from the former United States to the former Ukraine. Farmers everywhere, trying to grow just enough corn so the few people left didn't starve.

Because corn was all they had left.

* * *

"I'm going to check the condition of those blankets today," Cas' voice called from the passenger's side of the truck, conversational for a change. A quick glance showed him penning something in a tiny notebook. "I can wash them and hang the wool yarn to dry, then wrap it. If we're fortunate, the old cotton blanket I crocheted all those years ago will be intact, too."

Cotton. Another plant sleeping with the dinosaurs. The bitter thought had him grinding his teeth. Synthetic fibers made up most of their clothes, now. Soft things like wool and cotton had become luxuries.

His attention drifted back to the weather. If these clouds kept it up, the wind would blow more things to pieces today. At this point, he didn't like the idea of dropping Sati off at school. What if another blackout rolled through and he couldn't get back to her?

"You're gonna hang wet yarn to clean it up?" he replied, trying to push the strange weather from his mind. "Are you crazy? It'll be a magnet for more dust."

"I'll hang it in the closet, Gabriel."

"Right. Because our clothes are so fresh and clean and free of dust."

Cas huffed, and Sati just giggled next to him.

The cabin fell silent, and Gabriel sighed as his hand rested on the steering wheel. "Well, I could use a pair of socks, if you don't mind. Even though it's summer, the mornings aren't kind on the feet."

"I'll have them knitted up in a few days, if all goes well," Cas answered, writing something else in his notebook. A quick glance revealed a faint quirk of his lips.

"Why don't you get the stuff in the store?" Sati asked, sandwiched between them in the front seat..

"Acrylic is too expensive anymore," Cas said. "Besides, cotton and wool make better things, Sati."

"Those itchy blue gloves you won't wear are made from the store-bought yarn, Sati," Gabriel added, lips curving into a frown as he stared at the dirt road ahead.

"Ew," she answered. "Those itch a lot."

Gabriel saw Cas shrug from the edge of his vision. "Acrylic is mothproof. They ate holes in all our winter things the year before."

"Is that when Dad blew up the lab? That was scary."

Gabriel barked in laughter, nearly swerving into the long, endless rows of corn growing everywhere but the tiny dirt road.

"That was the season, yes," Cas answered, and Gabriel could feel the side-eye from his little brother without even looking.

"Cas knows his yarn. That's why I let him make everything." He shrugged. "Your scarf was great last year, right?"

"You don't think the moths ate it?" she asked, her voice aghast. Far too aghast for a seven-year-old.

"I am going to determine that today," Cas replied.

Gabriel's frown deepened, his eyes trailing up to a dark cloud above. It swirled, reminiscent of a harmless dust devil. It didn't alarm him, but it seemed odd in such cool, moist weather. Damn peculiar, because the dust seemed to gather and fall instead of swirl and rise. Well, it'd need hot air at the surface to rise, but... weird.

"Yeah, after we finish refitting the broken combine," Gabriel said, but his attention remained split between the road the the sky. He leaned forward to peer up at the strange cloud as he neared it. It seemed to hover just over the roadway, of course.

Cas took notice of him, and followed his eyes. "Huh. Strange weather."

"Damn strange," Gabriel grunted, leaning back in his seat.

Dread settled, stone-heavy and cold, in his gut. Bad winds. Strange clouds. He didn't like the looks of things. He certainly didn't want to drive under the offending column of dust, and considered how much corn they'd lose if he briefly went off road into the cornfield. Not too much, and generally, he just didn't think it worth it to chance things.

"Is it a dust devil?," Sati asked as Gabriel diverted the truck offroad.

"Don't know," he answered, and paused to reconsider. "Probably."

"We've never driven around dust devils before."

 _Because I've never seen this sort of weather before_ , he thought, but refused to say. Scaring his kid had no place on the agenda this morning.

"Eh, just being careful. We've got the spare tire on, after all, and I haven't picked up another yet."

He diverted back onto the road, giving the odd cloud one more glance in his rear view mirror. What on earth could create such a thing? He'd never studied meteorology, but hell, he had more than a basic understanding of how these things happened. Pilots had to know something about the weather, because what if you flew straight into a thunderstorm? You needed to know how not to crash. And while he knew falling columns of cold air happened, they were freak events. And powerful. But this? Brand new to him.

And worrying, because the human race couldn't take too many more hits. New weather patterns could spell disaster.

As he crested the hill, marking about half of the acreage of their massive farm, Gabriel slowed down to a crawl. He noted three more clouds off in the distance, all resembling the one they'd just avoided. They floated, deceptively peaceful, far away over the rows of corn, with dust—and _water_ —falling from their tall columns.

"That's different," he heard Cas mutter, leaning forward to stare.

Gabriel brought the truck to a complete stop, worry furrowing his brow.

"Yeeep," he hummed after a long moment. "You're not going to school today, Sati."

"But Dad—!"

"No buts," he cut her off, and began a three-point turn on the dirt road. "Sorry Cas, but we'll have to get your stuff tomorrow."

"Agreed," he said, and his voice had a solemn tone. "Have you seen anything like this before, Gabriel?"

He shook his head, and whipped the truck around, heading back towards the farmhouse. "Never."

"Is it bad?" Despite the potential scariness of the situation, Sati didn't sound too alarmed. Just curious.

"Don't think so," Gabriel lied, again, because true or not, he didn't want to scare the crap out of her unnecessarily. "It's just a bit strange. It'll probably clear up soon."

But he shared a worried glance with Cas above her head, and the conversation in the cabin fell silent. Tense.

"Why aren't you guys talking?"

"We're just watching the clouds," Cas told her. "Don't worry."

She shifted in her place, squirming forward. Gabriel reached out with his hand and pushed her back against the seat. Not for the first time did he curse the fact the middle spot of the truck's front seat only had a lap belt. She could wriggle and squirm enough to crawl right out of it when she got excited, which never did good things for Gabriel's blood pressure.

"Stay still," he told her. "We'll be back home in—."

A deep, rumbling noise cut his voice short. At first, Gabriel thought someone had started launching missiles again, because he heard the unmistakable thunder of a sonic boom. He slammed on the brakes by reflex, freaked out by whatever he'd just heard..

Which, exactly two seconds later, turned out to be the right choice, because the source of the supersonic noise came barreling down in the road directly ahead.

Gabriel cursed as the brakes locked up, and gripped the steering wheel for dear life as the truck squirreled about on the dirt road. Sati screamed, and Cas made a shout, one of his arms shooting out to cover her.

By fate or fortune or sheer dumb luck, the truck slid to a stop feet short of whatever had crashed. A plume of dust rose around them from the truck's sudden stop, while the impact crater smouldered ahead in the middle of the only road off his farm. _Fuck_.

Gabriel panted in the aftermath of the scare, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he stared over at Cas. His brother had Sati wrapped up in his arms, his eyes wide and lips parted.

"Okaaaay," Gabriel breathed, locking the parking brake in place. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, his skin creeping with the anxiety of it. "We're okay. We're... okay."

Except an impact crater sat only a few feet ahead of them, which did not fit the definition of okay. What the hell?

"Cas," he breathed, popping the latch on his seatbelt. "Stay here with Sati."

"Wait!" she shouted, clinging to his elbow, wrapping small arms tight around his own. She glanced between him and the smoking crater outside. "I wanna see it too!"

"No," Gabriel huffed, his voice full and stern, and she made a face, retreating into Cas' arms.

"Uncle Cas...!"

"Stay here with me, Sati," he reaffirmed, hugging her tighter.

Gabriel pushed open the door, his daughter's protests ringing in his ears. As he inched closer to the impact crater, another loud, whistling noise caught his ear. Not supersonic, not this time, but getting louder, and he had the good fortune to look up just in time to see something flying towards where he stood.

He leapt out of the way with hardly a fraction of a second to spare, and to his horror, heard Sati screaming in the truck behind him.

The sound of his daughter in distress had him jumping to action, and he rolled to his feet ready to fight. But her scream had been one of alarm—bits of the second thing which had crashed had sloughed off onto the ground already, something fiery and ashen leaving trails on the hood of his truck.

"You guys all right?!" he shouted.

"We're fine," Cas called back. "Do you need me to—."

"No," he hissed, and waved him off. "Stay in there with her!"

The second object sat in a fiery, crumbled pile in front of his truck. It had made its own miniature impact crater, but for the most part, it seemed to have burned up before it hit the ground. Jesus. How fast had it been going?

At least it seemed soft. He wouldn't want to repair the truck out here. He approached the smouldering crater, and thought at first thought it nothing but heaps of ash. Upon closer inspection, he realized the air danced not with ash, but down. Singed, blackened down.

What the…?. Feathers? From a wing, maybe?

His heart leapt to his throat, and he jogged over to the edge of the larger impact crater where the first object had struck. And when he peered inside, he did not see a rock or a hunk of metal, but a soot-covered, trembling body. With one wing.

Jesus Christ. It was an _angel_.

For a second, Gabriel thought about covering over the hole as fast as possible with the trembling form still inside, and pretending they had never found it. It had been... god... ten years since he'd even heard of angels walking around on Earth? Even longer since most had vanished, claiming humanity had disappointed them so much they didn't have the energy or will to finish the apocalypse they'd started.

Gabriel did not like angels. He'd been fortunate enough to avoid the fate of possession, but his little bro hadn't been so lucky. Cas had an archangel along for the ride, once upon a time, and it had been one of the most awful things he'd ever lived to tell about. And that included all the many times he almost died in his career as a hunter.

Angels had ruined the world. They kicked off their apocalypse but didn't stick around to clean up the mess. Instead of Paradise, the survivors of humanity got stuck with monsters and a deluge of curses. Then some brave soul sealed both Purgatory _and_ Hell shut, and a turncoat angel had supplied them with a spell limiting the power of Grace, which brought about a huge slowdown in the end of the world. The angels packed up and claimed they were leaving the universe behind, and slammed Heaven's doors behind them.

So what was an angel even doing here? What idiot would ever say 'yes' again?

But as much contempt as he felt for it, a part of him couldn't ignore its agony. Maybe this had been one of the decent ones. Not that it mattered much, really. The angels wouldn't have much power anymore, not on Earth.

Much.

Well, fuck. What now?

He marched back to the truck, hopped in, and slammed the door shut.

"What is it?" Cas asked, upright and alert. Good. They needed him in hunter mode right now.

"You are not going to believe this." And he leaned over, clasping his hands over Sati's ears. "It's an angel."

Cas blinked, and his expression hardened. "Alive?"

Sati squirmed under his hands, and Gabriel didn't have any illusions about actually blocking her ears. "Yep. That pile of ash in front of the truck? It's a wing."

Cas considered it. "Is the other wing still attached?"

"As far as I can tell."

Cas peered towards the bed of the truck. "Do we still have the cables?"

"No, I took them out yesterday to... fuck, it doesn't matter. What do we do, Cas? Should we just leave it?"

Sati successfully squirmed out from under his hands, and huffed at him. "We have to help it, Dad."

"Angels aren't good like the ones in your Christmas stories, Sati," he told her.

"But they're not all bad, either!" she argued. "What about the famous ones? There's Raphael who worked with us to try and figure out the blight..."

"And he died."

"And there was Hannah who helped with—."

"Sati..."

"Dad! You're always telling me how people have to be better if we're going to survive. And it's wrong to leave someone behind who needs help."

Gabriel groaned, and pressed his face into his palm. She'd never let him live this down, and maybe worse, Sati had a point. He glanced up to met Cas' eyes, quirking an eyebrow.

"We can't take it to the doctor's clinic," he said. "Not if we want it to live. The town would lynch an angel."

Gabriel shook his head. Is _that_ what they wanted? For the angel to actually live?

If Sati hadn't been along, he'd probably march out there with Cas and kill it. The world didn't need any more angels. But he stared down at his daughter, who gazed at him with all the fury and might a seven-year-old could muster.

Fuck. Okay. Kill it later, maybe. But not in front of her.

"Do we still have the angel blade in the attic?"

Cas gave him a single nod.

"The... uh..." He didn't want to say 'handcuffs with Enochian sigils' in front of his daughter, but didn't know a better way to put it. "The binds?"

Cas nodded. "Leather _and_ iron, if we need it."

Jesus. They almost melted those down for the metal a year ago. Thank fuck they hadn't.

Well, at least if featherface turned out dangerous, they'd have it fully restrained. And Gabriel would send Sati out with Cas and take care of the 'problem'.

"Sati," he said, his voice stern, "you stay in this truck. Do you hear me? Cas and I are gonna get the angel. You leave this truck, you're grounded for a month."

"But I—."

"No buts! Angels are dangerous. Don't _ever_ underestimate one!"

She shrank away, and Gabriel realized he'd been yelling. "Sorry, Sati, sorry. I didn't mean to shout. They just... well, they've done bad things. I just want you to steer clear until we know more."

She stared back, her voice soft. "This one might not be scary."

He exhaled, and ruffled her hair. "Maybe not. Stay here."

When he hopped out of the truck, this time he shut the door behind him, and heard Cas do the same. A glance over his shoulder showed Sati, still in the truck, but crowded up against the windshield. Well, at least she listened.

The crater ahead had mostly stopped smoking, so while visibility had improved, maneuvering their way down the soft dirt proved difficult. The crater hadn't made too deep of a hole, but the shape of it seemed strange and awkward. With any luck, the next dust storm would half cover it, and the next blackout would bury it.

The angel—Gabriel couldn't quite figure out its vessel's gender, but judging by sheer size, probably male—laid trembling in the pit, shifting about. It's skin had been blackened by soot, but Gabriel figured it had few if any burns underneath. Angels were resilient creatures. He—yes, it was a he—laid there panting, an arm curled up at a strange angle against his chest, a leg splayed behind him oddly, probably broken. His other wing smoked, as though it had been on fire.

Christ. Maybe resilience wasn't always a great thing. Death probably would have been easier for this guy.

He must have heard their footsteps, because his eyes fluttered open. As his weak gaze met Gabriel's hardened, stern face, unrestrained fear crept across his features. Good. If the angel feared them, perhaps he'd give them less trouble.

Gabriel knelt nearby—not at striking distance, because he knew the swords those angels carried—but near-ish.

"Looks like you had a bad landing," Gabriel commented. "Did hopping the angel express not occur to you, or did you want to fly like a bird?"

Cas gave him a pointed stare. "Don't antagonize him."

The angel's mouth moved, and it took a moment to understand him.

"Where am I?" Or, something kind of like it.

"Well, feathers, I'd say you're not in Kansas anymore, but that's exactly where you are, so."

The angel's head shifted, and blood oozed from his mouth and nose, mixing with the blackened soot and the dark dirt underneath.

"Are you going to kill me?" he rasped.

Gabriel shared a surprised glance with Cas.

"Sounds like you've met quite a welcoming committee before," Cas commented.

"I've had unpleasant times, yes." His vessel sounded mid or late twenties-ish, but the rasp made it harder to tell.

"Let me put it to you this way," Gabriel asked, his face not softening in the least. "Do we need to kill you?"

The angel stared back in open horror. "I mean you no harm. I swear it."

"Prove it. Hand over your blade," Gabriel told him.

The angel seemed torn, but apparently recognized he had few, if any, other options. Slowly, a long, silvery shimmer appeared in the dirt, underneath his arm. Agonizingly, he struggled to push it inch by inch in Gabriel's direction, soft noises of pain spilling from his lips.

If this were an act, it seemed damn convincing. Gabriel swooped down and palmed the blade, and tucked it into his belt. After a nod from Cas, the two flanked him.

"All right, let's get you up," Gabriel huffed, tugging at his arm. The angel didn't help, and he tugged harder. "Come on. We can't carry you."

Well, between him and Cas they probably could, but Gabriel had no desire to make things easy for an angel.

The angel struggled hard to put his feet under him, but couldn't get his left leg in the game at all. Gabriel wondered if the arm he grasped had also broken in the angel's crash landing. It felt uneven and wrong beneath the skin there. Never mind how the angel trembled every time he gripped it harder, hauling the big guy to the edge of the crater.

"Come on, up the hill," he huffed. "There you go."

The angel's eyelids drooped, and it seemed as though he couldn't even stay conscious. "Jesus, kiddo," Gabriel cursed, "what even happened to you?"

Gabriel had a case of morbid curiosity, really. What could mess up an angel so much? Oh, he'd probably be healed and all spry and dangerous within a few days, but still. It couldn't hurt to know for future reference, just in case more angels waltzed their way.

The angel mumbled something entirely unintelligible, and went limp in their arms.

Well, fuck.

While shouting at Sati to stay in the truck already, they half-dragged him to the bed of the truck, hoisting him up inside. But Gabriel couldn't very well leave him alone back there.

"You drive," Gabriel said. The sky had turned dark and hazy in the distance, as though great waves of earth soared on the horizon. "Looks like we have a dust storm on the way. Should cover up the crater in a few hours, but for now, just drive around it."

No one else came out this way, anyway. No one would accidentally flip their car in it.

"What are you going to do?" Cas asked, eyes confused.

Gabriel tapped the blade in his belt. "Hopefully, I'm gonna watch him. If he misbehaves, I'm gonna knife him."

Cas nodded, and moved to hop into the driver's seat. Hopefully, Gabriel wouldn't have to stab the angel with his daughter nearby, but no matter how traumatizing, it was better than the monster hurting her.

Sati, of course, pressed up against the fiberglass window at the rear of the cabin, trying her hardest to get a glimpse of their new passenger.

"Front seat," Gabriel called, knowing his voice would pierce the window. "Seatbelt. Now."

She sulked, but complied, and with great care, Cas drove off, moving to circle around the crater in the rows of corn. Meticulous enough to take out as few plants as possible.

They would just beat the dust storm back. Gabriel stared down at their passenger, and noted the angel remained entirely conked out. A dirt-stained, soggy rag lay underneath a tool, and it seemed good enough as any, so Gabriel grabbed it and wiped at soot and dirt on the angel's face.

Definitely young to median in age. Maybe thirty. Gabriel wondered what the poor bastard getting rode to death by the angel inside thought of all this.


	2. Chapter 2

The angel, as it turned out, was so filthy his footsteps made more of a mess than carrying him. But with a full-blown dust storm going on around them, they couldn't wait. They had to haul him inside.

They'd eventually maneuver him into the spare bedroom, high up in the third-floor attic. But for now, they dragged him into the bathroom and set him down in the washtub, because they had to get him somewhat clean before they deposited him on the dusty bed upstairs. Gabriel sent Sati out for cleaning rags, as much because they needed them as he wanted her out of the room. No need for her to watch them patch together a bleeding, half-naked angel.

The house's store of electricity had gone out, the solar batteries drained again. So they'd have to do this the hard way—with pails of previously stored water and good, old-fashioned scrubbing.

They peeled remnants of a scorched cotton shirt from his skin—didn't angels usually wear suits?—and got to work removing the soot. It smeared and washed away with easy, careful swipes of soaked cloth. Water dripped down and off his body in wet, black tendrils of dirt and ash… and blood.

Gabriel made a face, but at least the mess collected in the basin of the tub, where it'd drain away.

The angel needed new pants, a new shirt, a new _everything_ , and Gabriel knew for a fact they had nothing to fit him well. But with his remaining wing still out in the open, he'd probably have to deal without a shirt, anyway.

With the cleaning at hand, Gabriel got his first semi-accurate look at the vessel. He was a monster of a man, and had to stand more than six feet tall. His skin had gone red and blotchy, and paler than any angel had a right to be (and he'd lost a lot of blood, so at least the paleness made sense). He had dark hair, ragged and uneven at chin length. It might have been black or brown. He couldn't quite tell the colors apart between the darkened bathroom and his soaking wet hair.

Beyond the obvious injuries from his crash landing, the angel's entire vessel had somehow gotten into terrible shape, which had Gabriel doing occasional double takes. A roadmap of scars littered his torso, arms, and neck, revealing an unkind history. They hadn't occurred recently, but had long set-in; the sort of hardened scar tissue that hurt when the weather turned freakish.

As they moved him around, Gabriel confirmed the left forearm had shattered, maybe both the ulna _and_ the radius. The left femur had taken the worst of the landing, breaking in at least three places, best as Gabriel could determine in the cramped tub. A bone pierced the surface of the skin near the top of his upper thigh, jutting out at a nasty angle. Several ribs did not feel quite right. Then again, while Gabriel knew more than a little about these things (everyone did), he didn't have doctor-level skills.

Gabriel suppressed a grimace. He hadn't exactly thought the angel in terrific shape when they'd fished him out of his impact crater, but damn. If he were human, Gabriel would pack him right back up in the truck and drive him thirty miles over to the doctor's home, storm be damned.

But, this was an angel. Surely, he'd heal quick enough. Until his Grace took over, Gabriel and Cas only helped the process along as intermediary medics.

As they sat him up in the tub to clean his back, the state of his wing struck Gabriel speechless. It _might_ have been a wing once. A open, gaping wound mirrored the height of it, bleeding where the wing's twin once stood. Just how the hell did they even care for the leftover wound of a sheared-off wing?

Cas followed the path of his eyes, and exhaled, voice grim. "We'll need to clean the area and stitch it shut."

Gabriel frowned. "If wings are a part of an angel's True Self, why is there a gash in his vessel's back?"

Cas shook his head. "I don't know. Regardless, we must shut the wound, or it may begin to bleed in earnest again." He reached for an tiny box underneath the vanity, a relic of his hunting days, covered in ten layers of dust. "Dental floss and a sewing needle will do the job. We'll need to clean the wound, first."

Gabriel frowned, a grim expression on his lips. "We'll have to use the ethanol." He shook his head. "Angelface here won't like this one bit."

After calling to Sati to fetch the homemade alcohol, Gabriel laid out supplies. He set a thin, metal pair of forceps on a towel—no more than a glorified pair of tweezers—and tugged a pitcher of water nearby. God, this would make so much _more_ of a mess.

Ordering Sati out of the room again, Cas and Gabriel maneuvered the angel on its knees. It had to feel like murder on his broken leg, but they'd deal with one disastrous injury at a time. Gathering several old towels nearby just in case the mess spilled over the tub's rim, Cas held him upright while Gabriel poured the pitcher of water over the wound.

The angel groaned and twitched, but didn't quite wake up. But when Gabriel began to dig around in the wound to search for infection-causing debris, he shifted under his hands, flinching away. Gabriel didn't exactly blame him. Scraping bits of gravel and crap out of a huge wound had to cause a lot of whole lot of hurt.

What _really_ woke him up, as he'd predicted, was when Gabriel poured the ethanol directly on the wound. The angel's eyes flew open, and a raspy groan left his lips—but no scream. His voice sounded thin and breathless, as though he didn't have the energy to howl his agony to the skies. But he did struggle, weakly.

"Hold still," Cas commanded, tightening his grip. "We're trying to help you. You're wounded."

The angel shuddered, but listened, and stopped fighting them. His voice dimmed to thin gasps as Gabriel moved on to sew in grim, ugly stitches to hold the marred flesh together.

When he'd finished, the angel slumped against the tub, passed out once more. His vessel trembled as Gabriel cleaned the wound again with a cloth soaked in more ethanol, but he didn't quite wake up.

They didn't have enough gauze in the world to cover such a gigantic wound, so they had to go with an old cloth cut-out from a sheet repurposed for medical emergencies. They just hadn't expected to need so much of it at once…

Of course, they still had a lot of work to angel's leg presented an even more daunting problem than the huge gash in his back. The bone jutting up and out of his leg split both muscle and skin, and the wound wouldn't stop bleeding. They didn't have a thing they needed to set it, so they'd have to do the best they could for the moment. They cleaned it much as they had the wound in his back, then wrapped the open wound, bone and all. It took the remainder of their gauze, supplemented with old cloth. The pressure finally stopped the bleeding.

It all itched at Gabriel's mind as they tended to the leg. He'd never seen such injuries on an angel before. Sure, he'd seen dead angels before, but even really banged up, they didn't tend to get this broken.

Clean, and with his wounds sorta tended to, they dressed him in a pair of Cas' old, ill-fitting sweatpants and maneuvered him upstairs to the attic bedroom. Maybe it had belonged to someone long ago, before Gabriel bought the house, but now it sat as their stale, unused guest room. And a terrible one, as it stood empty save for the bed with years of dust on it. They'd been meaning to clean the place out forever, but, well, more important things and all.

Cas produced the old tools of the trade from the attic storage next door, from way back when hunting was still a thing people needed to do. They had an assortment of items at their disposal, including another angel blade, iron cuffs, and tanned leather straps embellished with Enochian. Perfect.

They set an old, stale top sheet over the mattress. With his wing sticking out and no way to lay him on his back, they set the creature down on his stomach, turning his head towards the window. They didn't even have a spare pillow for him. Using the iron cuffs and the tanned leather bound with sigils, they secured his forearms to the metal headboard. Gabriel didn't give two shits at the moment whether it caused him agony or not. His family, his _daughter,_ lived in this house. This angel would _not_ get up and strut around until Gabriel decided it didn't intend on smiting them into oblivion.

And Gabriel didn't know if he could ever feel safe around an angel.

"Why are you tying him up?" came his daughter's small, worried voice behind him. Despite all the times Gabriel had ordered her to stay out while they dealt with the angel, she just kept on popping up again.

"Just until we know if he's a good guy or not," Cas answered.

Gabriel glanced at his brother, but kept his own mouth shut.

* * *

Gabriel kept first watch, ordering Sati down and away from the room, while Cas tended to supper. The angel's own blade rested in his lap. It had a different design than the one Cas had, and maybe later, if things looked safe, he'd crack open a book and find out why. For science, and all.

Before Cas had finished cooking, the angel stirred, a groan slipping past his lips... followed by a startled, alarmed noise as he realized they'd restrained him.

He had soft, green eyes. Or blue eyes. Or... maybe hazel. Gabriel couldn't tell in the flickering lamplight, but they'd clearly gone wide and dark, brimming over with terror.

"Please," he rasped, and tried—and failed—to adjust his position. Probably off the nasty burn on his chest, or maybe to shift his broken leg... not that Gabriel cared.

"Please?" Gabriel repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Do not... hurt me," he rasped. "I mean you no harm, I swear it."

The angel's voice had become dry and rough, as grating a noise as sandpaper dragged across rock. He launched into a coughing fit as a plume of dust puffed inside between the windowpane and the frame. Gabriel did wince just a bit in sympathy. Between his ribs and his raw-sounding lungs, the angel's hacking had to hurt.

He'd had a glass of water for himself sitting nearby, but it had gotten a bit murky after he'd forgotten to cover it with a cloth. He figured it would do fine for the angel's dry throat, in any case. He grabbed it and marched over, helping the angel tilt his head back enough to drink. And drink he did, deep and messy, the water sluicing down his chin and neck unnoticed.

It got Gabriel's attention, because what he knew of angels, they were vain bastards. This guy didn't seem to care too much about his shitty appearance.

He set the empty glass nearby, and crouched down at eye level. The angel, dazed, stared back, his breath quaking with effort. Or maybe with dust. But shouldn't his vessel have some kind of tolerance to dust by now?

"Now, listen," Gabriel said, his voice low and dangerous. "My family lives in this house. My daughter is downstairs, and I do not care what you are, I will rip your heart out of your chest and kill you and your vessel if you dare touch her."

"I... mean... no harm," he repeated, a wheezing, broken record who'd run out of breath. "I swear it, I do. As soon as I can walk I shall leave, I..."

"And as long as that's true," Gabriel interrupted, "we're not going to have any problems." He brandished the blade. "And some distance away from here, I'll give this back to you." He paused. "You angels haven't been too kind to us humans. Don't make me return the favor."

The angel's eyes widened, like a giant moose in headlights. His lips parted a fraction, perhaps to answer, but he broke into another fit of coughing instead, turning his face into the bed to muffle it. The thin sheet covering the shoddy mattress couldn't provide much help, not against something coated with the dust of a dozen years. Even still, Gabriel made no move to help. Why should he?

After several long minutes of struggling to get his breath, the angel turned his attention back to Gabriel. He nodded once. "I understand. Thank you for helping me."

Gabriel kept his face carefully neutral, but he felt a beat of surprise. He hadn't expected the high and mighty creature to thank him.

"What's your name?" Gabriel asked, though he worded it as a demand.

"Samael," he answered.

It wasn't an angelic name Gabriel knew, and so, he played with it in his mind a moment. Broke apart the syllables, as if they held a secret meaning. Sam-a-el. Sam-ayel. Huh. Nope, no memories jogged. He'd have to ask Cas about it.

"What's yours?" the angel asked, voice small. Sheepish.

Did this guy think he could fake a make-yourself-appear-small-and-helpless con? If he'd taken a smaller vessel, instead of riding a mammoth of a man, it might've had a better chance of working. So Gabriel seriously considered not answering.

But, well….

"They call me Gabriel in these parts," he said. He thought of passing out Cas' name, but decided against it. "You need something, you talk to me or my brother. Don't talk to my daughter."

"I shall not speak to her," the angel—Samael—repeated. "I promise, I will not."

Satisfied, Gabriel unfolded from his position, his spine protesting the movement even once upright, and he stalked back to his seat.

The angel began to wheeze. Gabriel tried not to notice, because he totally didn't care. Not at all. Nope.

Not even a tiny bit.

His eyes washed over the angel's left forearm, the one which felt like popcorn dust beneath his hands hours earlier. The straps, covered in Enochian sigils, dug into the flesh, no doubt crowding into the broken bones. Perhaps he'd been a bit overzealous in tying him up, but hey. One careless move around an angel, and they could all die.

Damn it. But okay, so maybe he cared just a little.

"You doing okay over there, kiddo?" Gabriel asked.

Samael arched his neck, struggling to make eye contact in Gabriel's general direction. After a vain struggle, his body gave up for him, an ungraceful gurgle of a noise passing his lips. He hid his face against the mattress, perhaps the first sign of angelic vanity Gabriel had witnessed yet. But this only served to make the angel cough and cough without end. Gabriel couldn't help but wince in sympathy for the guy's ribs again.

"The bed has seventeen layers of dust on it, probably all the way from the Gobi Desert," he commented, trying to keep his voice dispassionate… or at least somewhat wry. "I'd stop trying to inhale it all."

The angel's coughing only served to worsen, transitioning from wheezing hacks to something bone-deep, like the goddamn whooping cough. Gabriel questioned in his head if the angel could actually die this way: suffocating face-down on a dirty mattress, in the middle of a dust storm, with god-knew-what bleeding inside of his vessel.

Maybe not, but he'd bet money the angel probably _wished_ he could die.

Gabriel had limited stores of compassion, but even he had to admit, seeing the angel in such agony tugged at him. But what the hell could he do in the middle of this storm? He didn't dare take Samael to a hospital, even if one had stood nearby. And any hospital or clinic worth its salt had Grace detectors to keep out unwanted guests. They would, as Cas had so eloquently put it, 'lynch an angel.'

"You're gonna choke to death if you keep it up," Gabriel warned, again. With a sigh, he stood and marched out the room. The now-murky pail of water from earlier sat out in the narrow hallway, along with a pile of unused, mostly clean rags. He snatched one and dunked it, rivulets of water rolling down the backs of his hands as he wrung it out. Rolling his eyes at his own behavior, Gabriel returned to the angel's side.

"Here, breathe through this," Gabriel ordered. He pressed the thin strip over Samael's mouth, tying it around the back of his head to secure it.

Slowly, not all at once, the angel's breathing evened out. A fine tremor rippled through his entire body, and Gabriel realized just how cold it'd gotten up there. He'd been wrapped up in his own coat, and hadn't noticed. And, well, they'd sorta left angelface here without a shirt.

They had a ratty, old blanket pooled at his feet, something Sati had dragged upstairs during the move from the bathroom to the attic. His lips curved downwards into a frown as he considered covering the angel with it.

Goddamn it. He didn't want to act this nice. Gabriel had stayed in here to _watch_ him, not coddle him like a wounded baby bird.

The angel finally grew still, all but his subtle shiver.

"You're an angel," Gabriel said, as though stating the unbelievable would make it easier to believe. "You're not supposed to get this sick."

"I wish," he croaked, his speech taking inordinate effort, "that were true."

"You _look_ like you're dying."

"I might be," he said, without a single trace of irony. "I cannot feel much of my vessel, and what I do feel hurts."

 _Hurts_. Jesus, what a tame way of wording it.

"How's the dude inside, doing?" Gabriel ventured. "He screaming over the pain?"

"I am, thankfully, alone in this vessel," the angel replied. "I created it long ago out of necessity."

A measure of relief pooled in Gabriel's gut, liquid and warm. Good. At least no one else suffered any second-hand agony in there.

"So, you didn't have anyone nearby to possess, or something?" Gabriel asked, reaching down to untangle one of the frayed cords of the blanket.

"No one who could hold me," he said. "Few can contain an archangel."

Gabriel's hands froze. He had brought an almighty _archangel_ into his dry, disgusting spare bedroom and tied him up? Would their Enochian binds even hold an archangel? Though if they didn't work, he'd probably be dead already, so...

Gabriel had met Lucifer and had a conversation with Michael, back when it had been the End of the World and they all fought colossal battles for basic survival. He'd heard of Raphael, one of the Heavenly turncoats who Fell and used their knowledge to try to help. He knew a fourth one existed, one who'd vanished or run away or something, but he'd never hoped to meet it.

And now it— _he_ —lay facedown in front of him. Sympathy for his condition or no, maybe Gabriel should just let it die.

Cas wouldn't be happy about this.

"So the blade you gave me," he began, "is an archangel blade?"

"Indeed."

It coughed again, and Gabriel's eyes fell on the discolored strip of cloth he'd just tied around its face as a makeshift dust mask. And he remembered the angel wasn't an _it_ , but a _he_ , and he had a name. And right now, archangel or no, Samael had just very unironically told him he might actually be dying.

"You're gonna kill your ribs with this coughing," Gabriel said, and stripped off his black jacket. It had the day's dust and more than a few rough, patched holes, but it'd do fine as a makeshift pillow. He helped the angel lift his head, his palm pressed smooth against heated, clammy skin. With some difficulty, Gabriel pushed the jacket underneath so Samael could rest his face against it. Or, at least, if he kept turning his damn mouth into the bed, he'd get a lungful of the dust Gabriel had accumulated today, rather than the dust the mattress had accumulated within the last two decades.

Gabriel sighed. "Not to mention anything else bleeding inside you." He said it mostly to himself, eyes sweeping the angel's prone form.

The angel mumbled something, maybe a 'thank you," but it sort of died into a noise of relief.

"How long will it take you to heal?" Gabriel asked.

Samael's eyes slid shut. "I do not know. I believe it takes six to eight weeks to heal most fractures, does it not?"

Gabriel's jaw dropped, his stomach turning as he realized the implications. "And up to twelve months for the femur," Gabriel added, hesitation in his voice. "Which is a decent rough estimate… if you were _human_."

Samael groaned, and in any other situation, the noise would sound almost comical. "I've fractured my femur?" He paused. "The… ah… left one?"

The angel couldn't glance down and see his legs in his restrained position, so Gabriel could only guess the leg must hurt like hell.

"It ain't fractured, kiddo. It's busted up in least three spots. You've got part of a bone sticking out of your thigh."

The angel said nothing for a long moment, but his eyes fluttered open, staring through the opposite wall. "That is… bad."

"Yes, it's very damn bad," Gabriel repeated, a rotten pit of anxiety seething in his belly as he began to realize just what kind of long-term project they'd dragged into the farmhouse. "Are you telling me you can't heal it yourself? Not even with time?"

Nowadays, a broken femur was about the worst (if the most difficult) bone to break, right up there next to the skull, when your brain started to swell. With the Grade-A medical care available in their neck of the woods, bones piercing through muscle and skin usually ended one way: with infection and amputation. Once upon a time, he would've probably had surgery for it.

The angel shifted in the bed, his one working arm tugging at the cuffs as he searched for a more comfortable position. A moment later, he gave up, collapsing against the mattress as if all the strength had poured out of him.

"It is a _very_ long story."

"And you're gonna tell me _every_ word of it."

Gabriel hadn't worded it as a request. The angel's eyes tired, bloodshot eyes swept up in his direction. Worried. Small.

"You may not believe me," he said, voice soft. "A few years prior, I am not certain _I_ would have believed it."

Gabriel mock-grinned. "Guess it's storytime, Samael." He paused. "You know what? I like Sam better. Mind if call you Sam?"

The angel blinked. "'Sam' is fine, if you wish." He winced again, and fought to contain another fit of coughing. "Might I give you an abbreviated version? When this dust passes and I can breathe, I shall recall the entire tale for you."

When the dust passes? Gabriel blinked. The dust _never_ passed. The dust always floated around, thanks to him and his ilk.

Why didn't he know?

"You're not from around here, are you?" Gabriel asked, grabbing the back of his chair. The wooden legs squaked along the floor as he dragged it closer.

Sam's brow knitted together in apparent confusion. He shook his head, a slight motion. "No."

"So, you're working on another planet or something?" Gabriel asked. "Are you angels out there tending gardens on paradise worlds while we're suffocating here?"

"Further than that," the angel replied, voice absent of any amusement. Just worry. "This dust, is it common?"

Gabriel's nose crinkled, his eyes narrow. How could he _not_ know? Gabriel had no idea what to make of it.

"Yeah. Common," Gabriel answered. "Though it's only half of our problem. But this is your turn to talk."

As the angel seemed to gather himself, Gabriel found his mind racing. If Sam had returned to Earth from another planet, perhaps the angels had their hands in things unimaginably far away. Another galaxy, even? They'd said they were leaving the universe, but who knew what the cryptic motherfuckers had actually meant. And if Sam turned out friendly enough, maybe he would consider helping them. Having an archangel in their pocket to help them fight the blight could be damn handy.

Sam struggled for words, lips parting and closing.

"I am from another universe."

Gabriel blinked. And blinked again. _Okay_. That one was new.

"You want to run that by me one more time?" he finally managed to ask. Gabriel knew he'd misunderstood. _Surely_.

"I was traveling to a specific location in the multiverse when a gravitational disturbance from a trans-universal phenomena struck me, and knocked me here. I am fortunate to have survived."

Gabriel just stared open-mouthed, time stretching as his brain struggled to wrap itself around the concept. The idea of traveling between universes the way someone hopped a train to the next town, and the notion of the archangel in front of him doing just that, frazzled him into stunned silence.

His face must have been a sight, because Sam just sighed, lowering his head back onto Gabriel's coat.

"You do not believe me," he murmured, spoken like he'd said it a thousand times before… and hell, maybe he had. "I typically avoid this line of conversation when I am traveling."

Gabriel tried to reign in his expression, pinching his lips together as he repeated those words in his mind: _I am from another universe._

Despite how much he mistrusted angels, when he put all the fucked up evidence together, it kinda made a scary amount of sense. The inexplicable weather today would became some kind of trans-universal disturbance. The busted up archangel in front of him couldn't heal because the workings of angel's bodies in his universe wouldn't resemble the workings of angels here. And maybe he didn't know about the dust because he'd only just arrived in their world.

Cas had claimed he'd done a stint in another universe once, thanks to Michael's antics. And scientifically speaking, well… alternate universes had once been a popular theory. So, unsure of how to best respond, Gabriel's stunned brain leapt straight into science mode, and momentarily checked disbelief.

"What do you…." He began, but faltered, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I mean, what sort of medium do you travel through? Some kind of… trans-universal space-time?"

Sam's face went slack with open surprise. He struggled to crane his neck up and around to gaze at Gabriel, eyes wide.

"You _do_ believe me," he said, voice soft and astonished. He stared for a long moment, and collapsed back onto Gabriel's filthy, black jacket.

Gabriel couldn't blame him for his shock. Even he had to admit, he hadn't picked the brightest question to ask right off the bat. But hey, curiosity and all.

"I am unsure how to describe it. There exists a fabric of space-time, but you may only travel certain paths. Places where the boundaries between universes have weakened, either because another archangel has previously cast a spell to travel, or sent another. Time moves in these tunnels. Sometimes, natural phenomena occur, such as in this case."

Wow. Okay. Other universes. He thought about protesting Sam's astonished 'you do believe me,' but he let it slide for now.

"So when the angels here said they were skipping town for a better universe, they were being one-hundred percent literal, eh?"

"It seems likely," he answered. "If they spoke of leaving the universe, they likely did."

Gabriel exhaled, more than a bit of relief in the motion. Good to know.

"So you just, what? Snap your fingers and you're somewhere else?"

"It is not so easy," Sam said, and all at once, seemed so weary. "It takes concentration. Power. Decent health. I find it reminiscent of travel through normal space. Our minds, even angels, cause us to perceive it as a series of tunnels, as though we had to dig our way through. And they skirt levels of reality even higher, the borders of dimensions we cannot perceive well or at all."

"And it zaps your juice? Your, uh… Grace?" He paused. "Do you call it Grace, too?"

"Yes," Sam said. "After extensive travel, it wears upon us terribly. And no two universes have the same energy. The 'juice', as you put it, is not always compatible."

"Does that mean you can get stuck?"

"Yes."

Gabriel shook his head, a clipped, astonished laugh rushing from his lungs. This could all be one extremely ridiculous tale, or it could be a _terrifying_ legit story. And he didn't know if someone this banged up, archangel or no, could have enough presence of mind to construct such a ridiculous lie. He could think of a million other stories to drum up sympathy, or _at least_ relatability.

"If you're telling me the truth," he began, "and I'm not saying I believe you, but why the hell would you take such a crazy risk?"

"That is the long part of the story," he rasped. "But, in essence, I am trying to find my way home."

Gabriel glanced at the window, where the oil lantern sat upon the floor, just out of the path of the rattling window frame. The shadows on the wall flickered and flowed, splashing about like water.

"Are you lost?" Gabriel asked. "Lost between universes?"

"Indeed," came the answer.

"Why don't you just cast your little traveling spell and go back?"

The angel sighed. "Why do you not wave your hand and teleport instantaneously to India?"

Gabriel snorted, because okay, that _was_ a little funny. And if the angel had snark in him at this level of injury, he might live through them after all.

"Because I can't, you asshat. I don't have magical powers of flight. I'm just human."

"And I do not because I neither have such power. I am only an archangel."

" _Only_ an archangel?" he repeated, unable to keep in the incredulity from his voice. "Around here, they practically crowned themselves kings."

Sam groaned, his eyes sliding shut. "I am unsurprised. Most angels I've met do not possess much empathy, even towards their own brethren, and those who do rarely need gaze beyond the span of their own universe." He sighed. "They would tremble to know things more colossal and frightening than themselves lurk in the spaces between worlds."

He blinked. "Like God? Death?"

"Much worse," he replied, his voice dark with some unknown horror.

Gabriel blinked. He didn't think he wanted to know what sort of thing could strike fear into an archangel.

"So your power, does it extend to the end of your universe, and poof? It's gone?"

"No," Sam answered, "but spending periods of time in universes not my own has proven damaging to my Grace. I've very little of my own universe's Grace left, and too much absorbed from other universes."

"Isn't Grace just energy?"

"Is all energy compatible?"

Gabriel considered the question. "No. But if you have it, why can't you use it?"

Even as he asked the question, his mind raced with all the many different possibilities. Maybe other universes had different fundamental rules to knock tiny things off balance, making it all worse. Maybe physics itself had different parameters in different universes.

The answer almost came out as a whine. "Because when I leave a universe, it doesn't listen to my commands anymore. Only my own Grace listens, and I have been cut off from my world and its Heaven so long I've barely a scrap of it left."

He frowned. It would definitely explain why Sam had gotten in such lousy shape. "So it all bleeds off when you go somewhere new?"

"No," Sam answered, "it stays within me and burns, as if I had stolen Grace from another angel."

That didn't sound anything in the neighborhood of good. "What does it do to you?"

"Eventually, when I use the last scrap of my own Grace, it will kill me. I think."

 _I think._ Yeah, Gabriel could see how it might extend beyond his scope of knowledge. "Can't you get rid of the other stuff?"

"I do not know how."

"So you… what? Limp from universe to universe until you get home?"

"So far, it has been my method," he explained, "though it has produced no results. I have met humans who travel easily between realms, and they have taught me what they know, but even still, I am stumbling as though blind."

Gabriel's eyes remained trained on his shivering form, listening to the dry scratch of his voice. Sam had been talking without complaint, but his voice had dimmed to faint huffs of air. If he kept it up, he'd lose his voice entirely.

"You _can_ get home, can't you?"

For a long time, Sam just stared at the far wall, his eyes distant and dim. "There is always the possibility I will 'get lucky', as you humans tend to say."

"Yeah, okay, but what're your odds? Do you even know the way?"

"More universes exist than are countable, so no one who travels between universes know those sort of odds," he said. After another moment, "And no, I do not know the way. I _have_ seen a makeshift map, but it shed no light on my path."

Gabriel blinked. Jesus Christ. "And how long have you been doing this?"

"Two-hundred thirty-seven years. And three or four months." He paused. "My internal chronometer has become highly disturbed as my Grace has waned. I cannot keep a precise count any longer."

"Or heal your own broken bones," Gabriel added.

"Or that."

Sam groaned, voice soft, betraying the agony he surely felt.

"And you didn't even aim for this place? You just got knocked off course?"

"Correct. I am not entirely certain how I survived." He paused. "It seems much of my own remaining Grace burned up in the act of preserving me, but… it fell somewhat short."

"Somewhat," Gabriel repeated, voice flat.

After a long moment, the angel's dry voice continued. "May I ask you a favor?"

 _Depends_ , Gabriel thought, but he bit it down. "What?"

"I cannot feel my wings," he said. "Are they… ah… visible at all?"

Oh no. Didn't he know he'd lost one of them? But if he couldn't feel them…

"I can see one. I think you had feathers on it, once upon a time, but right now it's bloody and charred, kiddo. It needs some quality healing time."

He flinched. "You cannot see the other?"

"Sam," he began, and hesitated. Should he tell him now? Might as well, since he would find out sooner or later. "The other wing, it's gone."

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed. "Gone?" he repeated.

"It came crashing down to the ground after you did. It burned into a pile of ashes and charred feathers before we even pulled you out of your crater. It just sort of evaporated away."

His face morphed from confusion to utter grief. His gaze fell flat, and he turned his head away, pressing it down into Gabriel's coat. He said nothing; just laid utterly still.

"Can you travel with just one wing?" Gabriel asked, and kicked himself, because of all the rotten times he could ask...

"I do not know." His muffled response only just surpassed a whisper.

"Will it grow back?"

A crackle of static electricity arced across his hair as Sam dragged his gaze back towards the window. "No."

Gabriel glanced down, away from the sick angel. It had been a dumb question, and he'd known it. After all, would his fucking arm grow back if he cut it off? No, it wouldn't. It made sense an angel's wing wouldn't grow back, either.

"I may seem to die," Sam murmured, his eyes distant and voice, so, so tired. "At times when my vessel has sustained injury beyond my ability to heal, I fall into a coma-like state resembling death. My Grace repairs the damage while I am 'dead', and I awaken in somewhat better condition."

He frowned. "A life-saving failsafe of some sort?"

"Indeed," Sam said, and with every word, the syllables seemed harder for him to form. "However, much of my own remaining Grace burned away in my crash landing. I am unsure if the 'failsafe' will work this time." He fell silent, his eyes sliding shut. "I would ask should I appear to die, you wait a span of some hours before disposing of my body. If you destroy my vessel but my True Self yet survives, you would trap me in a state where I can neither die nor regain consciousness." He paused. "I would prefer to die than remain permanently comatose."

 _Jesus_. A rush of ice gushed through his veins as Samael implied the morbid request. Gabriel had difficulty finding his own voice to reply.

"Yeah, okay. Um. How many hours?"

"The longest it has ever taken is seven hours. However, I have never sustained any level of injury to parallel my present condition."

An edge of real fear colored his voice, and Gabriel could understand why. For a moment, he tried to imagine himself stuck in the same position. Having gotten himself battered and banged up in some crash, at the complete mercy of a bunch of strangers in a nigh-frontier age society. And what if he'd landed where people hated angels so much they chained them to beds? Yeah, he'd probably worry they might burn his living, comatose body, too.

"Good to know," Gabriel finally managed. "Don't worry. We'll wait at least twenty-four hours. I wouldn't… Jesus, Sam. Don't worry."

The angel's eyes fluttered open, and he nodded. "Would you… if this occurs, would you ensure I am indeed dead?"

Gabriel blinked. "You want me to stab you?"

"Yes, with my own blade."

He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "If it makes you feel better, I promise you I'll knife you myself before we bury you."

That attracted a stare, his face a mask of curiosity. "You do not salt and burn bodies?"

"Used to," Gabriel replied. "But Hell's shut tight, Purgatory's gone, and Heaven's closed for business, too. So we don't need to anymore. We don't know what's going on in the Veil, but it doesn't involve bodies, so…." He paused. "If you'd prefer it, though, we could oblige."

Sam flinched, turning his head away.

"No. Whatever is most convenient."

 _Convenient_. God. How fucked up could a situation get? He tugged a blanket over Sam's legs, stopping at the base of his gnarled wing. He maneuvered around the wound on his back best he could, and just managed to cover the angel's shoulders.

"Listen, get some rest," Gabriel told him. "You haven't croaked yet, so no more talk of this death stuff. And we'll try to scratch together a plan about your broken bones in the morning if this dust storm clears by then."

Sam shut his eyes, and said nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

The archangel fell into the sleep of the dead after their talk, and hours later, he hadn't so much as moved. Gabriel didn't know if he laid in a state of profound rest, or if his vessel and Grace had initiated the aforementioned, terrifying 'shut down and recharge' failsafe.

Because Sam, for all intents and purposes, looked like a dying angel. He'd turned pale, his skin hot and clammy. His wounds didn't gush with any glowy Grace, but then, he probably didn't have much Grace to bleed out.

Cas began his turn at watch after dinner. He took the knowledge of Sam's archangel status with calm acceptance, but Gabriel knew it had to bother him. No one liked angels, but Cas had a nasty history with archangels in particular.

Gabriel had had to chase Sati to bed, with stern orders to stay put. She wanted to see their guest again. Gabriel didn't want her to get hurt, or to wander in and see how it looked when an angel died.

And so, now he sat in his basement lab, staring at a tiny, singed feather fragment in the lamplight. It'd half-melted into the shirt Sam had worn. Using a pair of tweezers, Gabriel peeled it from the remnants of the angel's clothing, and deposited it a beaker for safekeeping.

Gabriel had studied Grace back in his Air Force days, and learned just enough to know how to manipulate it… to a point. He'd always believed everything in nature had a system, even the seeming magic of the angels, and sure enough, he'd cracked part of the code. He'd learned how Grace would vibrate and burn away in the presence of certain kinds of radiation, even if only when separated from its angel.

At least in this universe, wings were part of an angel's True Self, and so the charred feather _should_ still have some Grace left within. He hoped.

Back in the day, Gabriel had a top-notch particle detector at his disposal. Now, he figured they didn't exist anywhere in the whole world anymore. Kind of like how they didn't have MRIs anymore, either.

But knowing how the thing worked gave Gabriel options, and he knew just the recipe for a bare-bones study of Sam's Grace. And to his great luck, he just so happened to have the main ingredient on hand. He'd stockpiled several burned-out fluorescent bulbs only months earlier, just in case he ever needed to scavenge anything inside them. And each dead little bulb contained a speck of thorium, perfect for producing the alpha particles he'd need to morph Sam's feather into pure Grace.

As he rifled through his supplies, his mind wandered to the storehouse out in the barn, to the cellar holding all the important items they couldn't keep in the house. It included a meager supply of spare lab equipment, including special glassware he'd cooked up long ago to contain Grace indefinitely. But he'd have to brave the dust storm to get it, so he'd have to fish it out another time.

Dead bulbs retrieved, he disassembled them and scooped the rare thorium into the watch glass. He made a vain attempt to keep the sample free of dust, and added the tiny feather fragment to the mix. After adjusting the glass on the microscope's stage, he peered through the eyepiece.

In the span of several seconds, the feather fragment glowed bright. It transmuted into a glowing, bright spot of Grace, no more than a flicker of light hovering in place. He turned the microscope's magnification up to maximum, and adjusted the focus knobs to clarify the image. He had to hurry; it wouldn't take long for the uncontained Grace to meander away, or burn out altogether.

As he studied it close up, he witnessed a mess he couldn't make sense of. Light of all different colors mixed and moved about, contrary and destructive, as though a storm all its own raged within the angel's Grace. Some strands vibrated out of control, until they flew apart and vanished altogether. Some colors collided with one another, annihilating themselves from existence. Other strings and spots seemed sluggish or unmoving. Gabriel strained his eyes to find the white Grace he knew and had studied, but could see none in the chaos before his eyes.

Within only a few minutes, most of the Grace had destroyed itself. Three survivors remained: one tiny white speck, the only he recognized, sat unmoving; a violet speck, vibrant but not destructive; and a blue speck, wandering in a lazy, elliptical path. Even these faded with time: first the blue, and then the violet. The white outlasted every other, slipping away through the air in unseen currents.

He recognized the white Grace. It came from this universe, after all. Unlike all the other colors of Grace, the white wisp hadn't burned out. It'd merely wandered away, maybe to return to the heart of the universe, or something.

Wow. Gabriel hadn't thought of _that_ particular angelic bedtime story in years. What an absurd, unreal notion of a universe having a literal, beating heart of energy. According to Raphael, Lucifer's curse infested this place of pure energy, making it impossible to stamp out the blight. And while Michael had claimed to have power enough to fix it, Raphael made no secret about his inability to do so.

All at once, Gabriel's stomach twisted in knots, stone-heavy and cold, his skin crawling with chills. Sure, he'd thought having an archangel in the pocket might come in handy, but what if the one in his spare bedroom could actually _save the world_? Who knew how powerful Sam might become when he recovered.

It made for Damn Good Reason Number One to keep the archangel alive. Or, well, maybe Damn Good Reason Number Two, with Reason Number One being 'do the right thing.'

If even remotely possible, repairing Sam's Grace (and his body) became of the utmost importance. If the archangel turned out as trustworthy as he seemed—and Gabriel hadn't even convinced himself of Sam's origin just yet—they could persuade him to help them.

But he needed to start this journey somewhere, so Gabriel began with the experiment before him. What, then, had he just seen?

Perhaps he saw the Grace of a thousand universes, trying to coexist in one place. Perhaps the last colors left standing somehow held more resilience than the others. He'd recognized the white Grace as belonging to his own universe, but he'd never seen blue or violet before. Could one represent the Grace of Sam's own universe?

Experiments didn't lie, but always revealed a truth. Unfortunately, as though listening to an oracle lament the mystical tellings of some dark god, Gabriel couldn't interpret the truth in the message just yet. At the most basic level of fact, he knew something rotten wreaked havoc with the angel's Grace. He knew it had self-destructive tendencies, and how viciously it burned away. Anything else, even an educated guess, belonged to the oracle's unclear babblings.

Gabriel stood, replacing the microscope in the cabinet, and grabbed his trusty notebook. As he dropped into his chair, he pulled the oil lantern close to brighten his writing space. Pen in hand, he detailed everything he'd just seen, writing out all potential hypotheses. It merited further experimentation, and he noted ideas for future tests. Maybe he could devise a way to extract the destructive colors of Grace, and make things less chaotic on the angel. After all, Sam had said the other universes' Grace caused him a lot of pain, hadn't he?

The lamp flickered out on him, and he growled, realizing he'd gotten so tied up in his writing he'd burned through all his lamp oil. He fumbled on the counter for his flashlight, and when he could see again, retrieved the lamp oil from the shelf to refill his lantern. He _had_ to keep writing. His mind lost details quickly, and if he didn't write absolutely everything down, he'd forget something important.

He had a dedicated solar battery for his lab space, the smallest and most glitchy of the lot, running separate from the power grid in the rest of the farmhouse. He knew he could get wrapped up in his experiments and forget how the electricity clock ticked away, so he wanted to make sure Cas and Sati had running water. They shouldn't suffer because of his occasional stupidity. So, the battery gave him limited power to use in his lab, but like everything else today, it had run empty early in the day. Hence his reliance on lamplight.

He set down his pen, a tired sigh slipping from his lips. The chill of night settled across his skin, and he wondered at his chances of getting any sleep. But his mind raced with questions, and anxiety, stone-heavy and rotten, swirled in his gut. He knew he wouldn't get any rest yet. Maybe not at all.

Gabriel had never seen a piece of another universe with his own eyes. Cas had done a stint in another universe once, but Gabriel hadn't thought about it too much. He'd just assumed at the time Michael had created an illusion to trick Cas. But after today, and seeing what he'd just seen? Maybe not.

Damn it. He actually believed the angel's wild tale.

He rubbed a hand over his drooping face, suppressing a groan. Pride and incredulity had him wanting to deny the whole affair, because since when did angels tell the truth? But the meager evidence—the crash landing, the injuries, the experiment—all suggested otherwise.

Gabriel penned a few more ideas for further experiments, when time and resources allowed. Sam's Grace pulsed and flickered like a rave gone wrong, and Gabriel would find out why.

When he'd emptied his mind of all its analysis, he cleaned and packed away his equipment. Everything had a precise, proper place in his lab. Anywhere else, he tossed things in the floor, left stuff out of place, and generally made a mess, but not here. He couldn't afford to break a single item, or he'd never replace it.

When he'd finished with the tedious process, he extinguished the oil lamp. He'd ascended the stairs in darkness many times, so much so he could navigate by muscle memory alone. But as he passed through the kitchen and over to the main staircase, a faint light shone down from the attic above. Gabriel thought of Cas, keeping watch over Sam. The dim glow assisted him in his climb to the second floor, and by habit he almost turned towards his bedroom. But he knew he'd never sleep, not yet, and so he trotted upstairs to check on his brother.

Another oil lamp flickered, dim and unsteady, as Gabriel pushed open the door. Cas sat slouched in his seat, arms crossed, his eyes distant as he watched Sam. The archangel still had not budged, the only sign of life his bone-deep, raspy breaths.

Cas didn't glance up, and Gabriel said nothing. He just stared at this angel, this... _visitor_ of theirs. It occurred to him now, more than ever, they couldn't even think of seeking any help for Sam. No one could know of his presence here.

"Your experiment?" Cas asked, voice low.

Gabriel hesitated, fully aware of how crazy all this would sound. "Cas, I think he's telling us the truth."

Cas tilted his head, his eyes narrow. "Truly?"

Gabriel moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, a frown curling his lips. "Until I stared at his Grace, multiple universes had been a theory they taught me way back in Quantum Mechanics." He hesitated, searching for the correct words. "He's… god, it's a mess, Cas. His Grace has an uncountable amount of shit in it. Stuff I've never seen anywhere, certainly not in Grace."

Creases grew across Cas' brow, his gaze flicking towards the angel. "Are you certain you've observed Grace at all?"

Gabriel hummed, nodding. "Yeah. It's all Grace, just different. Most of it is very destructive." He paused. "He said earlier it felt like 'fire in his veins.' It must be eating him alive."

Cas said nothing, but nodded, slow and considering. "Too bad he can't fly us all away from here."

What a thought. Escape the end of world by leaving the whole universe behind.

"His origin from another universe doesn't make him trustworthy," Cas added.

"Absolutely not," Gabriel answered. "Not with Sati around."

"But," Cas continued, "I do believe he requires our assistance." And, after a beat, "Perhaps we can test his trustworthiness with time."

Gabriel nodded, mostly to himself, his mind taking inventory of the broken bones he'd felt earlier, and all the other injuries potentially killing him. "I don't suppose you squirreled away any plaster of paris for your craft projects, eh?"

"Indeed not," he said. "We used the last of it to make a cast when Sati broke her arm two years ago."

Gabriel groaned, but made an effort to keep his voice down. "Don't suppose you've seen any in the store?"

He shook his head. "The doctor keeps some on hand for _small_ breaks." He paused, thoughtful. "Ruby had to drive her brother all the way to Saint Louis when he broke his leg. Even there, she had difficulty obtaining a cast."

"Yeah," Gabriel grimaced, vaguely recalling the incident. "So, not nearly enough. And even if we knew someone with plaster, no one will sell us enough without asking questions about why we want it."

The room turned silent as Gabriel calculated their next move. If this storm had cleared in the morning, he'd need to go find some plaster, or something useful enough to make a splint. He'd have to set Sam's bones himself, without a doctor's guidance, and make sure everything remained immobile. Custom fiberglass had become the stuff of legend anymore, so they'd have to use plaster.

"Do you know how to make plaster of paris? Is it possible?"

Gabriel scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, it's easy enough. It's just cooked gypsum. But, it's kind of hard to come by nowadays."

Cas fell silent, his eyes squinting in thought. "Gypsum, as in the mineral?"

He froze. "Yeah, that's the one. You got an idea, Cas?"

The former hunter nodded. "Years ago, I took on a hunt in Sun City. The locals spoke of an old gypsum mine in the area. Would you have any chance of finding some there?"

Gabriel's back straightened. When big business used to be a thing, mining companies would often stop production when the price of the minable material dropped, regardless of how much remained in the mine. So yeah, he could probably find some there, but damn. Sun City was far south, some two-hundred miles away. He'd hate the long drive, but he had enough gas in the truck to get there.

"We got any books on that?" Gabriel asked.

"Sati is studying Kansas history at the moment," he said. "She should have the textbook in her bookbag."

Gabriel hopped to his feet, and patted Cas on the back. Taking out his flashlight, he made his way down the stairs, and sure enough, there sat Sati's bookbag, on the chair by the kitchen table. She never listened when Gabriel told her to take it upstairs to her bedroom, but for once he felt grateful she hadn't.

Textbook in hand, he made his way back upstairs.

"I'll keep an eye on him," he told Cas. "Go sleep."

Cas nodded, and stood, stretching his limbs out with a wide yawn. He cast a single glance back towards Sam, and moved to leave. Gabriel snaked out his hand catch his wrist.

"Hey, do you know anyone selling a mattress? We can't leave him on this ratty thing."

Cas tilted his head. "I'll ask around. We won't find a box spring."

Gabriel 'hmmed' in response, and nodded. "Ask around. Tell 'em it's for me if you get questions."

Cas grunted in agreement, and left.

Gabriel sank down into the chair, flipping through Sati's thin textbook, reading up on Sun City and its historic mine. It even showed an old, black-and-white photo of men working the area. He nodded his approval, a smile warming his lips.

Yeah, Gabriel could make plaster of paris, easy. Finding the gypsum would present the real challenge. Locals may have already picked the old mine clean. But then, Sun City hadn't had many residents before the world went to hell, so why would anyone hang around? And Gabriel didn't need a ton of it. He needed a few pounds, maybe? Plenty for the casts, and some to spare for future emergencies.

He paused, eyes flicking up and over at Sam. They'd have to immobilize his entire left leg, but couldn't cover the whole thing in a cast while he had a bone sticking out of his skin. They'd have to reset the bone inside the leg, then splint it with wood, tape, and strategically placed plaster. They'd leave the wound uncovered until the skin healed up and the swelling went down. Then they'd have to go back over the leg and do a proper cast, because a broken femur could re-break too easily.. And all this didn't even account for the angel's left arm, which had shattered in his crash landing. They'd also have to do something about his ribs. A cast wouldn't work for the torso, but they'd have to wrap them or something.

Sam would spend a lot of time in the next few weeks—no, _months—_ awkwardly lying in this bed.

Gabriel tugged out his pocket notebook, and jotted a note for Cas: _'Get morphine.'_

He frowned, considering the limited things on hand to control a fever if it got bad. Tylenol had become more expensive than gold these days, and if you did find any, it was a decade out of date. Some dishonest assholes still reaped mountains by selling expired, useless aspirin. They lied and said its sour smell didn't mean anything. Except, you know, it had become useless.

Gabriel kept antibiotics in his lab, under a floor panel dug into the earth. Every day when the electricity kicked in, it kept things cold. Ambient temperature under there kept the shelf life longer, but it neared its limit every day. They could still get antibiotics from the government, but sometimes shortages happened, and hell if he would let his daughter or his brother die from some treatable thing penicillin could knock out.

Sam's wound, the one with a chunk of bone sticking out of it, it would definitely need antibiotics if he couldn't fight it off with Grace. Gabriel needed a cream or gel antibiotic, but those were rare. But other things would do the trick, even though the methods were brutal. Boiling water worked in a fit of desperation. Gasoline, too, if they left it on for at least a minute (but not any longer). And alcohol.

Huh. Yep. Their homebrewed ethanol would have to do. They didn't have much left, and it'd hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn't cause the angel further injury. After he used up the last of the ethanol, they'd need rubbing alcohol until Gabriel could distill more.

 _'And rubbing alcohol,'_ he added to Cas' note, underlining the 'rubbing' part a half-dozen times. If he didn't specify, his brother would come back with beer. Gabriel wouldn't mind a nice, cold corn beer right about now, but it wouldn't do Sam any favors.

He'd leave the note on the table in the morning, along with Sati's textbook. Because as soon as this storm cleared up, he needed to go. It'd take all day just to get to Sun City and back, not including time spent digging up gypsum. Cas would have to dig out his old car from under the dust and drive Sati to school.

He stuffed the note in his pocket for now, his eyes settling on their houseguest in the dim lamplight. Any other time, Gabriel would turn the lamp out, but he settled for turning it down low. He wanted to keep an eye on him, even busted up. But for the second time in an hour, he had to admit he didn't think Sam had put on some grand show. They could probably trust him.

The angel's breath, wheezing like sandpaper on wood, worried him. Everyone had built up a tolerance to the dust. You either did, or you died. But Sam had no such resistance, and… well, Gabriel could add it to the list of things yet able to kill him..

At least they could procure oxygen easily enough, and they even had a mask for it from when Kali…

Ah.

Anyway, they had something for it if he worsened. Funny what supplies he could and couldn't find, sometimes. Maybe if they lived in a bigger city, he'd have an easier time locating some rarer things.

Gabriel's drowsy eyes fell upon Sam's arm, and he frowned. The angel remained cuffed to the bed, but Gabriel had gone and tied the sigil-bound leather to his forearm, too. It probably hurt.

He considered removing it, figuring Sam couldn't go anywhere, anyway. The angel could hardly move, and he still would remain cuffed to the bed.

He crept over to his bedside in the dim light, and unwound the cord. Sam made a noise, a decidedly unhappy one, and gasped. His arm quaked underneath Gabriel's hands, either from injury or pain or cold, or maybe all three.

His eyes fluttered open, pained and confused.

"Hey there, kiddo," Gabriel murmured, working the leather with care. He felt awful about it now, about how tight he'd tied Sam down. "I know this hurts. I'm sorry."

Sam only half-suppressed a groan, biting his lip, and stared down at Gabriel as he worked. Otherwise, he didn't move an inch.

Gabriel pulled the strap free, and Sam flexed his hand, slow and experimental—and nearly cried out, turning his face into Gabriel's coat-pillow at the last second.

Gabriel winced in sympathy. "I probably wouldn't move it too much. Your leg isn't the only thing broken."

Through gritted teeth and misty eyes, Sam nodded, and settled his head back into the mattress. His arm relaxed, and without the binds, he had slightly more room to rest. But where the cuff closed around his wrist, the skin had turned an angry shade of red, and Gabriel wondered if the wrist had broken, too.

Fuck. It had to hurt. And Gabriel still had to find the all breaks later and set them back in place. That'd be _fun_ for everyone involved.

Actually, he'd probably be the only one involved. He'd send Sati out with Cas, maybe to school, so Sam wouldn't deafen everyone with his true voice once he got to work. Assuming angels in his universe had those. At least he had earplugs.

He stared at the cuff, and fought the temptation to take it off. Sam wasn't exactly a prisoner…

...but, maybe, still dangerous.

It seemed ridiculous, staring at him there in pain, wondering if he'd smite them all, but Gabriel hesitated to take any chances. It didn't matter how much he wanted to trust him.

 _This angel_ , his mind whispered, _just might save the world_.

"Don't make me regret this," he told Sam, displaying the leather strap before tossing it in the corner.

"You will not," he groaned, eyes closed, voice strained as though he could hardly breathe.

His arm, pulled straight where they'd hurriedly cuffed his wrist to the lower leg of the bed's frame, had to hurt. The awkward placement couldn't help matters.

Gabriel cursed under his breath, and reached in his back pocket for the key to the cuffs. He examined the angel, and decided with him still face-down on the bed, the best choice would have him resting his arm above his head. It would relieve at least some of the pressure from his broken bones. Gabriel would just re-attach the cuffs to the headboard.

The cuff popped open with a loud, metallic snap, and with it, Sam's eyes. He gaped down at Gabriel.

"Don't make me regret this," Gabriel repeated, and felt his heart thunder in his chest. The angel's hand now hung free. If Sam had lied, if he had power, he might have enough strength to break loose and hurt him.

But Sam laid perfectly still. His eyes, tired and pain-addled, the only movement as they followed Gabriel's motions.

"I can't leave you loose," Gabriel said, and felt his throat do something funny. "I can't."

The angel gazed back, not impassive, but worried. Pained. Maybe frustrated. Gabriel wondered if he might protest.

"I understand," he said, and the arm Gabriel held in his hand didn't move.

"Okay," he breathed, mostly to himself. "We're gonna put this giant arm of yours up on the mattress so it's not hanging down. Can you bend your elbow?"

Sam's brow knitted together, and his eyes trailed down to his elbow. Gabriel felt the muscles in the arm tense and shift. The angel almost screeched, but only just managed to swallow down the noise. He nodded quickly, eyes squeezed shut.

"Yes," he said, voice barely a squeak. "I can move it."

Gabriel frowned. "I didn't ask if you could move it and _barely_ stay conscious. Can you bend it without making your injuries worse, _and_ without passing out?"

Sam nodded, rapid and sharp.

Gabriel doubted it counted as a total agreement, and sighed. Regardless, he maneuvered his arm with care. At first, the angel watched him, but within moments, he buried his face into Gabriel's coat. A groan, bone-deep and gritty, echoed from his throat.

"Sorry, sorry," Gabriel heard himself saying. "Almost there."

Finally, Gabriel laid the heavy, mangled limb above Sam's head, bent at the elbow to rest parallel to the metal headboard. The angel released a breath, stone-heavy and thick with relief.

Gabriel snapped shut one end of the cuffs on the headboard. "You all right? Sam?"

"I… I am fine."

Somehow, he doubted that, but it was a damn near heroic thing to say, given his situation. Or maybe a gracious thing to say. Gabriel didn't know what to make of an angel acting gracious.

"Get some rest," he told him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. "I'm going to get supplies tomorrow to set your bones. You'll need to rest up before _that_ adventure."

He stood, and began to walk away.

"Gabriel," the angel called.

"Hm?"

"You…" he hesitated. "You forgot to close the other end of the handcuffs."

His heart turned to ice, frozen in a suspended moment of time. He turned around, inch by slow inch, until he could see Sam—and the truth he'd spoken. Gabriel had snapped the cuffs to the headboard, but not to the angel.

He could hit himself for such a ridiculously stupid move. It proved how distracted and scattered and tired he felt; how out of sorts this whole thing had him.

For a long moment, though, he just studied the angel's free hand. Sam didn't stand to profit from this, did he? If he meant to hurt them, if he had even the slightest ability, why would he point out such a momentous mistake? Why wouldn't he take advantage of Gabriel's moment of forgetfulness? What advantage could the angel have in fooling them to gain their trust?

Sam didn't seem conflicted in the least. He just gazed back, patient and expectant.

Gabriel knelt down, taking the cuff in hand, his face hovering inches from the angel's hair. And he hesitated again. From this distance, he could feel the heat coming off the angel's body, overwarm and electric.

"Gabriel," he said. "It is all right. You must protect your family." He paused. "I am grateful for your help at all, in any form."

Gabriel worried his bottom lip a moment, but snapped the cuff shut around Sam's hand.

"I'm sorry," he said to the back of the angel's head. Regret crawled across his skin, settling heavy in his gut.

"Do not worry over it," came a muffled response.

Gabriel crept back to his squeaky, old chair, watching in silence as Sam fell again into a deep sleep. But this time, his breath had quieted; his painful gasps and whimpers far fewer.

Gabriel head swam. He felt even more conflicted.

After several minutes of watching Sam sleep, Gabriel reached over and extinguished the oil lamp. The angel couldn't go anywhere, and he'd probably rest better without the light.

In the darkness, Gabriel sat all alone, with only his thoughts and the sound of the blowing dust for company.


	4. Chapter 4

The silence of the early morning woke him, and Gabriel jolted upright as he realized he'd fallen asleep. He'd intended to stay awake all night to keep an eye on Sam, but exhaustion had claimed him.

The angel remained asleep, judging from the steady, but again raspy, breathing from across the room. A faint glow from the window illuminated the corners of the attic bedroom; the dark blue light heralding an oncoming sunrise.

How strange things had gone in just the space of a single day. He'd woken up the morning before, thinking something odd fluttered in the wind. Now, here he sat, the same time of morning, staring at a sleeping archangel from another universe in the same pre-dawn light.

 _Still too damn early_ , he thought, rubbing his face with a sleepy hand. He needed rest, not _another_ project.

He took his flashlight and scooted closer to Sam, examining his slumbering form in the dark. He tugged at the blanket to study his wounds. A flush of red painted his hipbone, and Gabriel tugged on the edge of his ill-fitting sweatpants to glance at his thigh. Where the ugly end of his femur stuck out, his skin had turned darker; a vicious hue of red that skin should never be. He wondered if the light played tricks on his eyes, but he pressed his hand near the wound, and nope. Even through the layer of clothing, it burned like fire, a clear sign of infection. Damn it.

Gabriel had to hurry and get his supplies, because they needed to set Sam's leg, tend to his wounds, and get him full of proper medicine, pronto. But before he could even think of that, Gabriel had to medicate the angel _now_ , with the scant supplies on hand, or else he'd become only a gloomy footnote in their memories.

Gabriel tip-toed downstairs, down past the kitchen, and into his basement lab. The power remained out, and wouldn't return until the sun came up and hit the solar panels, but he knew this trail by heart. He snipped the flashlight back on only long enough to retrieve the medicine he kept so carefully stored.

Oral antibiotics had some utility here, but Sam probably needed much more. He reached for the injectible stuff, and hoped he remembered how to use it properly. He'd done it in the military forever ago, and he'd gone to a parent-teacher PSA meeting on how to successfully administer medicine to an ailing child. It would have to do.

He grabbed an old, sealed roll of gauze, and on second glance, the last of the ethanol he'd distilled. Good enough to get _really_ drunk on. So good, in fact, Gabriel rarely touched the stuff, because as much as he enjoyed getting hammered, doing so in front of his daughter tended to be traumatizing for the both of them.

But he only had a small portion left, hence his request for rubbing alcohol on the scribbled note he left for Cas. Gabriel sighed. Cas was a fucking saint, practically. He didn't know what they would do on the farm without him around.

He crept back to the attic bedroom, supplies in hand, and shut the door behind him. Setting stuff down on a wobbly, too-worn table in the corner, he took a match and lit the oil lamp. He relocated the table to the side of the bed, and moved the oil lamp from the floor to the table.

He stared down at the angel, and found him paler than the night before, his body set about with a fine tremor. Yep. Infection. Goddamn it. Gabriel had hoped to avoid this until they could get the bone set.

But for now, Gabriel could only attempt to delay any infection threatening to take over. If he could fly like the wind to Sun City and back, maybe they'd have the materials they needed to set his bones in a day.

He made his way over to Sam, and with care, put his hand on the angel's shoulder.

"Hey, wake up."

Sam stirred under his touch, and blinked up at him. Confusion creased his brow, and shined in his wide eyes.

"Gabriel? Where… where am I?"

"You're still here in the farmhouse."

Slowly, his expression cleared, and he laid his head back on Gabriel's coat. "Oh."

"Sam," he urged, "I have to give you medicine. You're getting sick."

The angel nodded, his eyes washing over Gabriel's face. "I am aware."

"I'm going to re-clean the area around that bone as best as I can, but I have to use alcohol. It's gonna hurt a lot."

Sam's eyes drifted shut, and he nodded. "I understand." He paused. "Is your daughter still asleep?"

The question threw him. "Why?" he demanded, not at all kind, but stern.

Sam startled at his reaction. "I do not wish to wake her. That is all. Nothing else."

Gabriel knelt beside him, hands tugging at the angel's too-small sweatpants. "She's on the floor below us. Knowing her, she's been up half the night, straining to hear what the grown-ups are doing with the angel upstairs."

Sam's eyes remained shut, but Gabriel saw a faint, warm smile on his lips, even though he made no comment.

Gabriel pushed the plunger of the syringe, tapping at the needle shaft to get rid of any bubbles. They didn't want any air in the angel's bloodstream, because such a mistake would probably kill him for sure. The manual had said to use a specific dosage for an average-sized man, but how much should he use for Sam? He was a huge guy, and not even human to boot.

 _Antibiotics_ , he thought to himself, a mental reminder to add antibiotics to Cas' list on the table downstairs. Injectable antibiotics.

"You allergic to anything?" he asked, getting out the alcohol and swiping at a spot near the wound.

Sam hissed, soft, yet audible, and shook his head. "No. Or, nothing I have encountered thus far, at any rate."

"Amoxycillin?"

"I've never even heard of it."

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. Unbelievable.

"Guess we'll find out," Gabriel said, pressing in on the skin and inserting the needle. He slowly emptied the medicine into the angel's thigh.

Sam, to his credit, kept stone-still, even though Gabriel knew injections into muscle hurt. And had to hurt doubly so, with the tenderness the infection and injury created. He could feel heat under his hand, so much more heat than angels usually produced. Then again, he'd never essentially felt up an archangel from another universe before, so how could he know?

"You normally run this hot?" he asked, morbidly curious.

"No." Sam's replied, his face pressed down into the coat again.

Jesus. They had to get this kid on his back, and his face out of the dust.

"Can't you make your wing vanish, or something? We could get you off of your ribs."

"It requires attention, first."

"Hmm." Gabriel had half an idea what _that_ meant, and he'd probably have to do it himself. "Okay. We'll work on it later. I've got to make a trip out and get supplies."

He poured the alcohol on a fresh length of cloth, the least dusty one he could find, and grimaced at the sight of the wound.

"Not gonna lie. This is going to hurt like hell."

Sam nodded, but at his angle, didn't glance down at him. "Where are you going?"

It took a second for Gabriel to realize Sam had been speaking to him. "What? Why?"

The angel deflated, his head turned on its side, eyes on the window. "I… Would you speak while you do this? It helps me think on something other than pain." He hesitated. "Tell me about your world. Or a story you know. It does not have to be true." He tripped over his words, and shook his head. Giving up, he craned his neck around to meet Gabriel's gaze. "Please."

 _Fair enough_ , Gabriel thought.

"All right, Samael," he said. "I'm going to an old, might-be-abandoned gypsum mine."

With Sam's eyes upon him, he pressed the cloth to the perimeter of the wound. The angel flinched, hard, but made no noise. His face scrunched up, and he pressed his face back into the coat. Gabriel idly noted he might never get his coat back, at this rate.

Not that he needed it, or anything. Especially after the angel had probably drooled all over it.

"Gyp… sum," he breathed, voice strained. "What.. mmm…. why?"

"I can make plaster of paris out of gypsum," he said, conversational, inching around Sam's wound, then rewetting his cloth with ethanol. "We'll set the bones and splint your leg, and make a cast for your arm. Later on, we'll put your leg in a cast once this skin wound heals."

Sam's breathing turned thick and heavy, and every time Gabriel cleaned a new wound, he could feel a jump in his thigh. Sam seemed to give up on replying, so Gabriel just kept talking.

"I'm afraid you landed in a lousy universe, angel," he said, soaking the cloth. With firm hands, he spread it across to the entire wound, pressing down.

Sam nearly choked, jumping against both Gabriel and the mattress, but he did not try to kick Gabriel's hand away. He sucked in a loud breath, but his voice didn't make a sound. Impressive.

Or scary, because maybe he'd become used to pain on this scale.

"Cas'll come up at some point and offer you food," Gabriel told him. "I know angels don't eat, but if you can't even fix a broken bone, you're probably going to need to nourish yourself, too."

After the worst of it, Gabriel wiped at his skin with great care, clearing away the blood and other fluids which seeped out, always mindful of the bone fragment. He hated having to put him through this, as he didn't _want_ the angel shouting in agony. After all, Sam had probably _already_ gone out of his mind with pain, and Gabriel still had to set bones. The worst had yet to happen.

"We don't have much to offer, food-wise," Gabriel continued, thumbing a weak antibiotic tincture he'd made months earlier over the open, red spots. "The blight's killed everything. All we've got left is corn."

Sam relaxed under his hands, his breathing less harsh. Gabriel knew the tincture stung, too, but its sting had to feel tame compared to the ethanol.

"Blight?" he asked, voice almost hushed.

Gabriel kind of appreciated how Sam seemed so worried about waking up Sati. Of course, he'd threatened to cut his heart out not eight hours prior if he so much as spoke to her, so… okay, maybe he had a good reason to behave.

"Lucifer's blight," Gabriel repeated, and took out the clean, packaged gauze. "It's killed almost everything. It began with the major grasses, oh, twenty years ago? We all thought it was the normal transient blight you used to see on grass all the time, but then we started seeing dust storms. When a lot of the grass vanished, nothing remained to hold the soil in place. By the time we realized it wasn't a one-or-two-season event, it had already sunk in everywhere. I got worried the second year, but I didn't think too much about it because I didn't farm back then. I had my own life to deal with. Thirteen years ago, all the major grasses and weeds had all gone extinct, and so did our staple crop of wheat. Barley went eleven years ago. Okra and spinach five years ago. Corn's all we've got left, and the blight takes some of it every year, too."

Sam remained silent as Gabriel wrapped the gauze around his thigh, moving only to assist Gabriel's efforts.

"Are there no more seeds?" Sam asked after a long while.

"They're all blighted," he answered. "We tried to engineer blight-resistant seeds—I mean, the biologists and the botanists did, not me—but the blight always adapts. They're still trying new things with corn. But it's still spreading." He paused, considering the wound. "There's a seed bank up in Norway that tries planting blighted seeds in its storehouse every year. They're all things we've lost, like beans and wheat, but they never have any luck. I guess they'll always keep trying, though."

Sam fell silent, leaving Gabriel to clean up. He stepped outside to wash his hands in the basin (he couldn't wait until the sun came out and they had running water again). Rivulets of red dripped from his hands onto the towel beneath, forever staining it with the angel's blood. Once clean, he returned to the tiny room, taking a glass of drinking water into his hands.

"Here," he said, offering Sam three pills. "Open your mouth and take these."

Sam's eyes, tired and misty, stared down at the pills. Gabriel intended to explain himself, but the angel simply opened his mouth.

It was a trusting move. Not that all of this didn't show some level of trust, but with Gabriel on his knees offering him pills, for all the angel knew, he'd just offered him arsenic.

He pressed his palm to Sam's mouth, and deposited the pills on his tongue. "Water?"

The angel nodded, and Gabriel helped hold his head upright as he swallowed the pills. He seemed thirsty, so Gabriel allowed him to gulp down the entire glass. When he'd finished, he all but melted onto the bed, his head resting on Gabriel's dusty, old coat.

Pillow. He needed to add a pillow to Cas' 'to-buy' list. Damn, and probably get him to raid his account at the bank, since he'd take the cash they had in the farmhouse along with him to Sun City. Gabriel made enough cash through farming subsidies and his engineering skills (those made him more money than the farming, since everyone wanted helpful gadgets), but he never kept much on hand. And no one had debit cards anymore.

"Thank you," the angel breathed, his voice gone heavy and slack.

"Do you even know what I gave you?" he asked.

"Medicine," Sam answered, calm and even. "I truly thank you."

Gabriel snorted, the noise bitter and unbelieving. "I have you handcuffed to the bed, and you're thanking me?"

"Had you left me where I fell, I would be dead already," Sam answered. "And it seems I am depleting your resources when you have precious few."

Well, sure. But no one deserved to just lie there and suffer, did they? Okay, so Gabriel had wanted to knife him when he'd first saw him, but the initial instinct had been one borne of fear; a knee-jerk, terrified desire for action.

"I gave you tylenol," he explained, "and an oral antibiotic. Cas will come up here every few hours to make you take more antibiotics. But we don't have much tylenol left." He frowned. "I know it hurts, but just hang on another day, and I'm gonna see what I can do."

The angel opened his eyes, staring up at Gabriel. "Why are you helping me? If angels are so unkind in this world, why did you not leave me where I fell, to choke to death in the dust storm?"

"My seven-year-old strong armed me into it," Gabriel half-joked.

The angel's eyes narrowed, and Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle. "She did. She insisted." But his laugh faded, and his expression turned somber. Time for the truth, he supposed.

"Because, uh… to be honest, I _was_ going to leave you." He frowned, and the window seemed an excellent place to focus his attention. "Or kill you. Because, you know, angel and all. But I couldn't kill you in front of my daughter."

It took Sam an inordinate amount of time to reply.

"I am so sorry my kind has been terrible to humanity. In my world, we were meant to be your protectors, not… whatever monsters we are here."

"Violent, war-hungry monsters," Gabriel filled in. "They gave us the end of the world, promising Paradise when they finished. But we got half of humanity dead and half of the rest dying. And then they left us with the blight, just to put a cherry on top."

"You said the angels made the blight?"

"Lucifer did," he answered. "Michael promised to fix it if his true vessel would say 'yes', but after he knifed Luci, he split without bothering to fix things. Said he felt distraught over the lack of Paradise. Never came back. At least he didn't take his vessel with him."

Sam said nothing, and Gabriel tried to busy himself with the tools in front of him.

"So my kind left you to suffocate and starve," Sam murmured, a distant, unfocused stare in his eyes.

Gabriel didn't turn around, the words so true it made him ache. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"I understand even less why you chose to help me. If our positions were reversed, I cannot say with certainty I would have acted as you did."

"Well," Gabriel sighed, gathering his stuff, "we'll see. You might wish I'd let you die before it's all over. You're in for a hell of a ride when we set those bones."

"And afterwards, it would seem," Sam added. "This shall be no easy recovery."

When Gabriel turned around, the angel's eyes had closed, and Gabriel debated whether or not he should pull the flimsy shade and give him some shelter from the approaching sun.

"I do understand why you have me restrained," Sam told him. "I would do the same, were I in your shoes." He hesitated. "Do not worry about it."

There he went again. Reassuring him. Explaining how he understood, and why Gabriel didn't have to worry.

He pushed the unsteady table away, setting his noisy supplies on the table. Returning to Sam's bedside, he grabbed the blanket, tugging it up and over him once more.

"You want it over your wing?" he asked. "It'll keep you warmer. It may be June, but the dust always blocks some of the sunlight anymore, so it's colder than it used to be." He paused. "And you've been shivering."

"But," Sam protested, "If you cover my wing, my blood will ruin your blanket."

"Don't worry about it," Gabriel told him. "It's an old blanket."

Besides, they could bleach it out later and reuse the yarn. Cas knew how to do some great things when it came to recycling.

"I..." The angel hesitated, and sighed. "I _am_ cold…"

Gabriel sighed, and took care as he pulled it up and over Sam's waist. A fragment of a sheet from the night before remained over his mangled wing, and Gabriel saw no reason to remove it now. He tugged the blanket up to his shoulders, careful to lift it far above the wing before allowing it to settle in place. He didn't want to drag the textured, rough linen against any wounded limb.

"I cannot repay you for any of this," Sam said. "I possess no money, nor any form of currency."

Gabriel hadn't thought of repayment yet, because he just hadn't. Sam needed help, so they provided it. But if Sam got better, and he wanted to repay them, he could do so in ways having nothing to do with money. Work. Assistance. Hell, Gabriel wouldn't mind taking notes about the classical mechanics in other universes.

Instead, he laughed it off.

"Well, I guess I'm earning my 'decent human' card. If Heaven were still open and in business, I guess I'd be getting myself ready for the trip up."

Sam again craned his neck up at him, surprised, and Gabriel figured he wondered about the 'heaven being closed' thing.

"If you keep twisting your neck like that, you're gonna hurt it," he murmured instead. "Sleep now. Questions later, when you're not wheezing like an asthmatic."

And with that, Gabriel gathered his stuff and fled the room.


	5. Chapter 5

When Gabriel dragged himself downstairs, he found Sati by the kitchen table. Far from asleep, she sat fully dressed, her coat in her lap.

"So, we're going to Sun City?" she chirped.

"Absolutely _not_ ," Gabriel replied, brushing past her as he replaced the medical supplies in their containers. "You're going nowhere, because I don't know what's out there. And you have school in two hours."

"But Dad—."

"No buts," he said, swiping the note he'd left on the table for Cas, and struggling to remember the extra items he'd meant to add. Injectable antibiotics. A pillow. ' _See if you can find a muscle relaxer,_ ' he added, ' _and raid my account for the money. Blame everything on me_.'

Sati had fallen quiet,but still sat in the chair by the table, as though her sheer proximity she could force Gabriel to change his mind.

Jesus. She had Kali's fierce spirit, no question about it.

"To your room," he said. "Wait for Cas to make you breakfast."

Her lips curled into a frown, and sulking, she stormed up the stairs.

Okay. Maybe the stubbornness was more of a Gabriel thing than a Kali thing. He could almost hear Kali's amused voice in his ear, ' _She's your daughter, too_.'

With a faint smile, Gabriel descended to his basement lab to retrieve supplies for the trip.

* * *

An hour later, Gabriel had put thirty miles between himself and the farmhouse. He tried to consult a map with a flashlight in his mouth, both of which made driving all the more difficult. He knew he should pull over to multitask, but no one ever said he had great common sense.

He'd parked and inspected the spot where Sam left his impact crater, and as predicted, the whole damn thing had filled in with soft dust and dirt. No one would even notice it at this point. Just a few more storms, and it would all pack in all nice and tight.

Sun City sat some two hundred miles south. He kept to the old roads, since the main thoroughfares often became impassable outside of town limits. The road Gabriel picked had potholes filled in with something resembling concrete. Since concrete required gypsum, it gave him hope the local source could still produce.

As he crossed under the old I-70 bridge, gooseflesh prickled his arms, the chill of the morning air sharp and crisp as late autumn. He'd left his usual coat back at the farmhouse as the angel's makeshift pillow, but lucky for him, he kept a backup in the truck. He reached over into the passenger's seat and gathered a handful of material, but his coat _yelped_ as he yanked at it, and he damn near swerved off the road.

Sati sat in the floorboard, curled up into an impossibly small space as she hid behind tools, supplies, and the truck's emergency blanket.

"Kiddo," he huffed, his heart beating rabbit-fast, "you'd better be glad your mother isn't here. She'd kill you for pulling a stunt like this."

"But you neeeeed help," she giggled, all sing-song.

Gabriel all but slumped in his seat. "Oh, good god. Cas is probably having a heart attack right about now."

"I left him a note!" she said. "Um, on the back of yours. I said you were taking me with you."

Gabriel shook his head, staring down the road. He'd already driven a hundred miles. He couldn't turn back now.

"You are _so_ grounded," he said instead, not sure what else to say. God, he made for a horrible father.

"You always say that."

He grumbled under his breath. "I _do_ always say that."

She giggled, and he tried so hard not to join her. But within moments, laughter bubbled up from his chest, warming his lips as he chuckled along with her.

"So, what are we looking for in Sun City?" she asked.

"We're going to Sun City to get special supplies." He paused. "And just how did you know I'd be making my way to Sun City, anyway?" he asked instead.

"You bookmarked it in my textbook."

Gabriel frowned, side-eyeing her with a frown. "I slept with your textbook on my lap, little lady. No way you got it from your book."

She bit her lip. "Um."

"Umm?"

"I got thirsty in the middle of the night, and so I went to get water."

"And on your way back to your room, did you sneak up the stairs and listen to me and Uncle Cas?"

"No."

"No?"

She ditched the façade, performing a total one-eighty on the subject. "So! Sam comes from a different universe? That's so cool!"

Gabriel covered part of his face with his free hand, shaking his head. "Little lady, you're not to go near him."

"Aw, but why not?"

"He's an _angel_!"

"He's a _nice_ angel."

"We don't know that," Gabriel argued, but… well, it felt difficult to argue the point when he'd sorta already made up his mind about Sam being a decent sort of guy. Probably.

"Sati Novak, now you listen to me. You're not to go up there without one of us there."

The moment the words left his mouth, Gabriel regretted them. The addendum would allow Sati to worm her way in, somehow, especially since he and Cas shadowed Sam most of the time.

"He's very sick," Gabriel added. " And if you go up there all the time and bother him, he won't be able to rest."

Gabriel glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and watched her settle in her seat, her arms crossing as she fell silent. Maybe he'd been unfair, saying it so harshly.

"When he's all better, can I talk to him then?"

"Oh, Sati," Gabriel groaned. "Maybe, okay? If he's all better and we know he's a good guy."

"Angel," she corrected, drawing her knees up to her chest. "A good angel, you mean."

"Yes, angel," Gabriel relented. He glared over at her, lips curling into a frown. "Get your seatbelt on."

She moved to comply, tugging at the shoulder belt. "So, what's in Sun City that's not in town?"

"Gypsum," Gabriel told her. "Hopefully."

"To make a cast!" she replied, her face glowing. When Gabriel glanced over at her, his eyebrows raised, she elaborated. "Remember the book they gave me when I broke my arm? It said they use gypsum to make casts for broken bones."

Gabriel smiled despite himself, and turned his attention back to the road. She had a sponge for a brain, and he knew one day she'd mirror her mother's brilliance.

"Sati," he began, the conversation taking a more serious turn, "you can't tell anyone Sam is with us at the farm. You've got to promise me."

"Why not?"

"People don't like angels," he said. "They won't understand he's not from…er… around here."

"From another _universe_ , Dad."

"Right, fine. Another universe." He paused. "But they won't understand, and they might come and take him away. So, we have to keep it a secret for a while. We'll work something out eventually, but for now you can't tell anyone. Not your friends or your teacher. No one."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, huddling in her seat. "Okay, I promise. I won't tell."

* * *

As it turned out, he'd wasted too much time worrying about locating the gypsum. He found the abandoned, open-earth mine, and only had to drive down the sloping roads and hammer the rocks free. The soft, white mineral splintered as he struck it, fibrous crystals scattering everywhere. Before long, he had boxes of the stuff, enough to have extra emergency stores at the farmhouse, and then some. Perhaps he could sell the excess, or make an anonymous donation to the local clinic.

Sati became the most stressful part of the whole excursion. She kept skipping too close to the edges of the pit, the soft earth crumbling beneath her feet as she peered fearlessly down. Each time Gabriel glanced up, his stomach roiled in fear when he saw her testing out yet another steep edge. Ordering her back from the edge worked, but only after the fifth time he'd yelled.

On the return trip, the sun sank near the horizon, the Kansas sky painted in rich reds and oranges. Sat scooted to the middle seat, snapped on her lap belt, and leaned against Gabriel as he drove. She fell asleep within minutes.

God, he loved her so much. He'd never pegged himself as the fatherly type, but here she slept, light snoring and oblivious to the world. He wouldn't have it any other way.

An hour passed, leaving Gabriel alone with his racing thoughts and a rumbling stomach. What a situation they'd all found themselves in. He'd have to tend to the angel tomorrow, and at some point he needed to dig farm equipment out from under all the dust. Cas could do it, sure, but Gabriel had sent him into town today. Besides, Cas shouldn't have to do all the work alone.

"Daaad," came Sati's small voice, half-muffled against his coat. "Can I help?"

Her words interrupted his nervous chain of thoughts, and for once, he felt glad. He leaned forward, peering ahead. His headlights only just illuminated the road ahead.

"Help with what?"

"Making the plaster. I wanna make some."

His first instinct had a denial on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. It would all go so much faster if she helped, and he might actually get some decent sleep tonight.

"You promise to be careful? We'll have to get it really hot."

"I promise," she said. "And then I can help you make the casts!"

"No," Gabriel clipped, perhaps too much of a knee-jerk reaction. "That's for me and Uncle Cas. You've missed two days of school, and you're not missing tomorrow." Before she could protest, he added, "That's final."

She remained silent a moment. "Can I see the casts after they're done?"

Gabriel sighed. "Sam's gonna feel awfully tired," he said. "But maybe in a few days, if he doesn't mind."

Fuck. Did he just say that? He'd just fucking said that.

"But remember, he's sick, sweetheart," Gabriel repeated. "Had to give him strong medicine this morning."

She fell silent a long while, huddling in her seat. "Is he gonna die like mom did?"

Gabriel set his jaw, hard and firm in the darkness. He'd never felt so grateful she couldn't see him.

"No," he told her. "We'll save him. Don't worry."

* * *

Wake-up time came far too early. Gabriel forced himself to roll out of bed, stretching his tired limbs with a wide yawn. He'd built up a serious sleep deficit, but he hoped he could catch up tonight. Maybe.

According to Cas, Sam slept the entire day away. He'd awakened just long enough to take his medicine, and fell straight back to oblivion. He'd even refused food at one point, either unwilling or unable to wake up long enough to eat, and Gabriel figured he would have a talk to him about it. Skipping meals in his condition would only harm him. But the conversation would have to wait for another day.

Maybe their long conversation that first night had worn the archangel out. It made sense. If Sam's story held water, then 'road weary' would be the understatement of the century. Kiddo had to feel exhausted six ways from next Sunday.

And… not a kid. Gabriel should not call him that.

When Gabriel stumbled downstairs, wiping at his sleep-bleary eyes, Cas had already awoken. He worked at the stove, making the closest substitute for coffee they had left: atole. A beverage of Mexican origin, Gabriel had grown to enjoy it over the years. Made from fresh, ground corn kernels (and sometimes dried kernels soaked in water, depending on what they had), they boiled it until it thickened. One could flavor it with anything, and before cassia and sugarcane had died out, Gabriel had preferred his with cinnamon and sugar. Now, he settled for corn sugar.

Cas poured the steaming hot beverage into a mug, sliding it in Gabriel's direction. He took the cup in hand, careful not to burn his tongue when he sipped it. His eyes slid shut as liquid heat slid down his throat, warming him from the inside.

Atole tasted good enough, but what he wouldn't give for coffee, or eve hot chocolate. He paused, shaking his head at this pointless train of thought. He should feel grateful they had something left other than corn beer and dusty water, at least.

He sighed. Either way, he still missed great food.

When he'd arrived home the night before, Sati had long fallen asleep. Cas carried her inside and put her to bed, while Gabriel carted the boxes of gypsum to the basement lab. Cas admonished him to wait until morning, but they both knew Sam couldn't afford for them to wait. After refusing his help, Cas sighed and went to bed. Gabriel, left all alone late in the night, got to work.

He dug out his old benchtop ball mill, and ground the crystals down into a powder. It left him sweating it out over the boiling hot machine, as its temperature required constant babysitting. He needed it to get hot, above the boiling point of water, so it would lose most of its water content. But also, it couldn't get too hot, or he'd end up with powdered anhydrite instead of plaster of paris. Sure, he only had to add water back in, mix it up, and start over, but the time drain would become an annoyance. And he didn't remember his geology well enough to know if powdered anhydrite would still work as plaster.

When he'd finally finished, and had more than enough plaster, he shut everything down and stored all the equipment with care. When he ascended the stairs, he noticed Cas had laid out old paper and shreds of scrap cloth to assist in making Sam's splints and casts. Gabriel could almost kiss him for his thoughtfulness.

Cas had even found a brand new mattress _and_ a fresh pillow. And wonder of wonders, got his hands on the rare antibiotic rocephin. When he asked who he had to con for it, Cas just shrugged, which just made Gabriel wonder which nurse at the clinic he'd had to bribe for it. But hey, Little Bro had a right to his secrets, so Gabriel didn't push. If he had hot dates on the side now and then, he'd share the spicy details with him eventually. One way or another.

Soon enough, Sati joined them downstairs, her footsteps bounding down the stairs.

"You're late," Cas told her.

"Sorry. I overslept."

Gabriel snorted against his cup, and shook his head. "Gonna have to remember to set your alarm clock, Sati."

"Because you never oversleep, do you, brother?" Cas asked, eyebrow raised.

"Nope," he answered, all fake cheer. "Never ever!"

Cas shook his head, and handed her a bowl of grits. "Get your coat, Sati. You'll have to eat on the way."

She complied, and wrapped her arms around Gabriel's neck. "Bye, Dad."

He returned her fierce hug. "Remember what we talked about," he said, voice soft against her ear.

"Yes, sir!" she sang, and bounded out the door after Cas. Good lord, she would be the death of them both.

A few minutes after they drove off, Gabriel sighed. No point in putting it off any longer. He left his mug on the table, and covered it over with a cloth. He descended the stairs to retrieve the powdered plaster, and upon returning to the kitchen, set the great bowl of it on the table while he retrieved a pail of water. Balancing the bowl of plaster and pail of water in his arms, he began a slow climb up three sets of stairs.

As he lumbered inside the attic bedroom, Sam's eyes fluttered open. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his skin pallid and breath raspy. Despite his three day stay in bed, the angel seemed even worse than when he'd arrived.

"Your daughter came in and spoke to me," he said.

Gabriel huffed, and set both the bowl and pail on the table. He should have known she'd….

"I said only you forbade me speak to her, and apologized. I said nothing else."

Gabriel moved about, gathering his supplies, and chuckled despite himself. "Tattle-tale."

Sam's reply did not come at once, and when it did, his voice dripped with confusion. "Is it not what you wanted? I'd rather you not… ah… rip out my heart."

"If you didn't notice," Gabriel said, pouring a precise, measured amount water into a holding container, "i'm working overtime to keep you with us. It'd kind of defeat the point if I killed you."

"Ah."

"Besides," Gabriel added with a grin, throwing a glance back towards the angel, "I threatened to cut your heart out. Not rip it out."

Sam tilted his head in the strange, distinct way angels did, all the more strange due to his face-down position on the bed. "My mistake."

Ah, snark always helped things. He could grow to approve of an angel who had such deadpan snark within him.

Gabriel exited the room to retrieve the remaining medical supplies: the cloth and old paper, all the medicine Cas had procured, and old rags and towels. Maybe they could bleach them out and disinfect them later, he mused.

"It'll take hours for this to set," Gabriel explained. "In ten minutes it'll start to harden on the outside. In forty-five it'll dry and have sort of a general soft-set, but won't set hard for seventy-two hours." He crossed his arms, staring hard at the angel. "I know it sucks, but you'll have to stay as still as possible."

"I understand," he answered, but he looked positively green around the gills. Gabriel's stomach roiled, rotten and heavy, and he had to admit he felt the same. This wouldn't be pleasant for either of them.

"Got some medicine and stuff to give you. Should make it easier."

Sam nodded, but his eyes remained wide, his skin gone pale.

"You look like you're gonna be sick, kiddo."

Sam hummed, a noise of agreement. "I am… anticipating."

"Try not to," Gabriel told him, turning back to the bowl of plaster. "Are you gonna deafen me with your True Voice when we get started?"

"No. I haven't the strength to manifest it."

Gabriel paused to glance at the stover mattress Cas had leaned against the wall, and wondered how he'd managed to get it. The newer stover mattresses felt awesome to sleep on, and in rural areas like this, a rare luxury. It even came with a functional bug-proof jacket. It didn't smell of the dust of a thousand winters, but had the warm scent of sun-dried corn from a decade of summers. Sam would sleep on a better bed than anyone else in the house. But given his condition, Gabriel didn't mind giving the bedbound angel a comfortable place to recover.

Cas had even set out an old set of discolored, off-white sheets. Still thick, but too stained and discolored for anyone else to want to use. For Sam, who'd soon deal with wet plaster and bloody wounds, the old set of sheets was a fantastic choice.

But back to the task at hand. Gabriel had no graceful way to do any of this, not with Cas gone with Sati. Gabriel had the archangel blade hidden under his shirt, biting and cold against the skin of his back, just in case. He didn't really think he needed it, but he had to free Sam to set his bones and make the splint for his leg. No need to take any chances.

He made his way to the bedside, and as Sam watched, uncuffed his hands. Gabriel deposited the sigiled restraints nearby, and focused his full attention on the archangel. He could feel a flurry of fear, an electric surge across his skin as he turned his back to Sam, organizing the medical supplies in a convenient manner. But to his great relief, when he turned back to Sam after several long minutes, he hadn't moved an inch. His eyes had slid shut, as if meditating or praying. A flicker of relief cascaded through Gabriel. Okay. Yeah. They could do this.

But first, he had to get the filthy angel cleaned up. Which meant more personal, close-up time with a naked angel, only this time Gabriel would have to properly scrub him down. Somehow. But cleaning in itself made for a tricky situation. The bone jutting from his thigh couldn't, under any circumstances, get wet.

Best to treat it all as clinical. Hell, Gabriel had to scrub a farmer down once before, after a dust storm had roared through and he'd gotten lost. They'd had to set his arm that night, too.

But Sam didn't look anything like the random farmer guy they'd helped. When they'd set about cleaning him up the day they'd found the angel, they'd done it by lamplight, the shadows heavy and concealing.

Well, okay, so maybe he'd never scrubbed down anyone as aesthetically pleasing as Samael. No harm in admitting it, right? And the way the angel gazed at him with complete trust had grown on him.

Gabriel tugged off the ill-fitting sweatpants, and grabbed a dull pair of scissors, icy and uncomfortable in his hand. He cut away the remnants of Sam's tattered clothing, and set to work scrubbing him down. The angel couldn't do himself, after all.

Sam, to his credit, looked straight ahead, his eyes distant and tired. He didn't act embarrassed in the least about the whole thing.

"I can't do this if you're not clean," Gabriel blurted out, far more flustered than the angel seemed to feel.

"I am aware."

He paused a moment, rewetting his cloth in the soapy basin. "Cas got some stuff for you in town that should fit."

"Thank you. Both of you." And after a moment's silence: "I shall thank him later."

"You're gonna be too doped up later to do much more than drool."

Sam exhaled, just the tiniest flutter of laughter. The soft, amused sound made Gabriel's lips warm into a smile.

"Thank you," Sam said.

The smile faded as he stared at the grim task ahead, and Gabriel sighed. "You won't thank me in a few minutes, kiddo."

"I do not think I will enjoy this, no. But you act to save my life. You have my gratitude."

With the cleaning all done, next came the wing. He peeled away the old sheet fragment they'd covered it with, finding it crusted over with ash and blood. The wing itself looked like it'd suffered the fires of Hell, all burned, banged up, and featherless. Gabriel tried to keep the motions of his hands gentle, but Sam cringed and flinched over and over again. It made Gabriel worry, and he would stop at times to ask for direction, but Sam only asked him to continue, and hurry.. Which meant it probably hurt like a bitch.

After half an hour of careful doctoring, Sam did manage to tuck his wing away to wherever angels did. A rush of relief rolled across his features, and he went slack against the bed.

"Feel better?" Gabriel asked.

"Only somewhat," he answered, honest, "but now I may lie upon my back, and I've looked forward to that."

Time to swap the mattresses, because Sam wouldn't go anywhere once he applied the plaster. With great effort, he managed to heave Sam up on his one good leg, and over to the nearby, squeaky chair. Once he'd made sure the angel had the energy to sit up and not, you know, fall out of the seat, Gabriel turned his attention back to the bed. He dragged the old mattress to the floor, and maneuvered the heavy stover mattress into place. Pausing to catch his breath, he covered it over with the old set of sheets. They might have blood and plaster on them soon, but it didn't matter for the old bedding.

Before dragging him to his new bed, Gabriel helped him dress in a minimal amount of clothing (he had to make a cast for his arm and a splint for his leg, after all), and tried not to notice the naked and unashamed angel in front of him.

Damn, he was only human, after all. Mr. Archangel here had made a vessel Gabriel could stare at for hours.

He shook his head, and focused on the task at hand. He wrapped an arm around Sam, guiding him back to bed. The angel leaned most of his weight upon him, and while Gabriel could handle it well enough, maneuvering him into a workable position presented a far more difficult challenge. But they worked together well enough, and as he laid down, Sam set himself as flat as he could. Gabriel did not miss the wince ghosting across his face.

Gabriel had all his grisly supplies. Wood and binding to hold the leg steady while he constructed the splint. Plenty of plaster to seal the splint in place, and make a cast for his arm. Medicine. Earplugs, just in case his angelic voice came out to scream.

He put a hand on his leg, still too warm for Gabriel's liking. But it hadn't worsened. Yet. He took a towel and positioned it underneath Sam's broken leg. He would wrap it around his leg later, before using the plaster, so it wouldn't burn his skin off.

"I have to make sure I don't miss anything," he told the angel. "And I'm going to need some guidance to make sure I get your bones positioned in the right place."

"I understand."

"This won't end quickly. The plaster is going to make some serious heat as it dries."

"I understand."

"You'll—."

" _Please_ ," Sam interrupted. "Please, just… just…"

He snapped his mouth shut, and stole a glance at his wobbly table, knotted and dry and old. He'd brought an extra vial of morphine and set it out…..

"No," Sam breathed, following his eyes. "If you administer drugs to dull my senses now, I will lose the ability to guide you as you set my bones."

Gabriel grimaced. "Ah. Right."

And with great hesitation, he took an elongated strip of thin wood, stick-like and firm, and offered it to Sam. The angel stared at it, opened his mouth, and bit. He could still talk around it, though muffled. But Gabriel had to deal with the inconvenience, because the stick would ensure Sam didn't bite his tongue off in this gruesome process.

And so Gabriel got to work.

Sam had made himself a solid, strong body. While Gabriel could lug Sam around for short bursts of time, he couldn't outright _carry_ him. But as he wrestled his femur back into place—a fate he didn't wish on anyone—he worried he might not have the stamina or the strength to finish the job. His weak, small steps towards success had to be the worst torture for the angel. Sweating and tired, he wished he'd kept Cas around to help, and figured out another way to occupy Sati. But the angel's incessant screaming would have frightened her.

It kinda spooked Gabriel.

After too long a time, it seemed he had maneuvered Sam's femur back into one piece. But he knew his eyes and hands didn't cut it.

"Sam? Sam," he breathed, gentle.

The angel heaved and panted, eyes squeezed shut, his voice cracking on each breath. He sucked in more air, and his eyes shot open.

He didn't seem to have the ability to speak, so Gabriel pressed forward. "Did I get it all? Is it all in place?"

He groaned, full and bone-deep. His eyes slid shut, his brow furrowing in concentration. After a moment, he nodded, opening his eyes.

Gabriel felt a wave of relief cascade through him, warm and pleasant. But it only lasted a moment, as he had much more work to do. Blood-curdling, grim work.

He couldn't afford to rush the splint. He wished he could go ahead and set Sam's leg in a proper cast, but his thigh had swollen from the wound left behind from the bone… and possibly, an infection, though Gabriel hoped not. Anyway, a proper cast could happen later, when the swelling had subsided.

He turned away a moment to mix the dry, plaster powder with water, turning into proper plaster of paris. He could already feel the heat building through the wooden bowl as he stirred. Now he had to hurry.

Taking great care, he wrapped Sam's leg in the towel, and took two long, sturdy pieces of wood and set them on either side of Sam's leg. He wrapped the top, and bottom in medical tape. Getting the balance right proved tricky, but the tape held firm. He had to create a frame to hold Sam's leg in place while not directly allowing it to contact his skin. With the clock ticking on the plaster, he painted the tape and wood over with the sticky substance, adding strips of cloth and paper as he went. He made certain to leave the area of the wound open.

For his part, Sam remained stone-still, though he white knuckled the sheets and his head tipped backwards in a silent scream.

His arm proved easier to set. Gabriel had thought it broken in multiple places, but only the ulna and radius had fractured. Wrapping his arm in another thick towel, he set about making a proper cast. The plaster had already thickened, and so he had to hurry.

The angel gripped the bed frame with his one free hand, soft noises of pain escaping his lips as Gabriel worked. At least he had enough angel mojo about him to keep the heat from melting off his skin. But it had to hurt like hell.

Last came the ribs, and Gabriel only had to wrap him about the torso with firm gauze and elastic. Getting him upright enough proved difficult. But finally, the horrid affair ended, and Sam remained still as the plaster dried, soft setting.

"We're done," Gabriel told him. "It's good. You're good. You did good."

Sam said nothing, so Gabriel began to administer medicine. And he made a beeline for the morphine.

"I'm going to give you enough to knock you clean out," Gabriel told him, tapping at the shaft of the needle. "That way you won't have to stay awake while I clean out your wound."

Sam groaned something unintelligible, but slowly nodded. He glanced up at Gabriel, his face wet, eyes bloodshot, and tried to repeat himself.

"Don't talk. It's okay," Gabriel told him. He leaned down and applied a tourniquet, and injected the morphine in his arm.

"I said," Sam tried to say, his voice slurring, "thank you."

It made Gabriel's blood run cold. "I'm so sorry I had to do that." And he grabbed a spare, clean rag and wiped at the tears on his face, which began to sag under the weight of the medicine.

"I'm not," he gurgled, blinking slow, body relaxing against the mattress. "Thank you… for… helping me."

Within seconds, the archangel had passed out cold, leaving Gabriel to clean the ugly, infected wound where the bone had jutted out. He gave him a shot of powerful antibiotics, and hoped against hope the infection wouldn't make it into his blood.

And so, it ended. Sam remained still, only the rise and fall of his chest to indicate he lived. The plaster hardened more with each moment, but even still, Gabriel had to wait two hours before draping him over with a blanket.

So for the moment, with Cas still gone, he waited upstairs with Sam. He'd go and dig out his farm from under the dust with his brother later. Gabriel would need to cuff the angel again before heading frowned as he studied the shape of the cast on his left forearm, and realized the cuff wouldn't even fit around his wrist anymore. But they still had the other one, thankfully.

A stab of regret pulsed in his gut, sharp and cold, but he just couldn't take the chance so long as Sati remained in the farmhouse. He had to think of her safety.

He yawned, and leaned back in the squeaky chair. He'd replace the handcuff in just a few minutes.

* * *

The next thing he knew, Cas stood over him, hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Gabriel hadn't even realized he'd been sleepy.

He blinked, his eyes darting over to the angel. Sam laid in the bed, a pillow under his back to prop his torso somewhat upright, and an old top sheet underneath his leg. Oh, right. Gabriel had done that.

Also, the huge, sprawling archangel remained unconscious. He hadn't moved an inch.

"Did everything go well?" Cas asked.

Gabriel rubbed at his face, tired with his need for more sleep. "Yeah. We got it done, at least."

"It must have been difficult," Cas said, hand squeezing Gabriel's shoulder. "For you both."

He turned and glided out of the room, quiet as a cat. Gabriel gave one last glance to Sam, and followed Cas from the room and downstairs to the kitchen. He sank down into a chair, relishing the moment before he'd need to go outside and do the work he should have done yesterday. He'd designed the farm to kind of run itself, but they still had to dig it out from under the dust left behind by the last storm.

God, he needed sleep so much. He knew he'd become too old to run on so little rest, and worse, it had only just turned noon. So much work piled up already.

"Did he fight you?" Cas asked, interrupting his moment of self-pity.

"Not at all," Gabriel said. "Can't say I wouldn't have tried to kick me if I'd been in his place. I had to damn well wrestle all the pieces of his leg into place, and he held still. But believe me, he _loved_ that."

Cas grimaced, and Gabriel felt his own skin crawl again at the thought of such pain. And worse, if Sam's Grace really was in the toilet, he might limp on the leg for the rest of his life.

But, he _would_ come out of it, with careful attention paid to his wounds. He would live, which wouldn't be true if they'd left him in the crater on the road. The wound would have gotten him eventually, but the storm would have buried him first.

Or worse, what if he hadn't died at all? What if he'd would have laid there and suffered, choking on dust and dirt in endless agony because he could only truly die of a strike from an archangel blade?

Gabriel hated to think of it now, of how he almost did leave him to die. Maybe his soul had gone rotten to the core from his bitterness, forgetting even compassion for strangers. Maybe he deserved his fate in this dying world.

Well. Maybe folks of Gabriel's ilk did. But not people like Cas, who'd made a difference in the world. Not Sati or any other child, either, all too young to have had any part in the horrible problems.

Gabriel groaned, and lumbered to his feet. "Let's get to work."

"You'll be pleased to know I made significant progress yesterday," Cas told him as the screen door squawked and thumped shut behind them..

"Even after your trip to town?" Gabriel replied, eyebrows raised.

Cas snorted. "When you are not around to slow me down, I move quickly."

Gabriel laughed, full and warm, and threw an arm around his little brother. "Careful there, Cassie. You're gonna make me think you want all this corn for yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

Gabriel had never intended to live out his life as a farmer. He'd been a scientist; an engineer. He'd flown in the Air Force, and had been a breath away from becoming an astronaut. That had been once upon a time, when he'd been young and bright-eyed, and knew nothing about angels or demons. Before the angels tried to end the world.

Now, much like the world itself, Gabriel lived only in the spaces in-between, often when he slept deep enough to become dreamless. He lived in the moments when his daughter giggled and smiled at him; when his brother did his adorable little thing and grinned. He lived in-between the raindrops from the sky, and the fresh smell of the wet earth. He lived in the days when his lungs didn't burn after a day of labor, and he could pretend his daughter would grow up to have a full, happy life.

But he could pretend less and less. Others just milled about, worked their farms, believing the news and the government's constant propaganda. ' _Just in: Scientists believe this latest blackout a turning point in the weather, and the environment now on the road to improvement!_ '

If he had to read that particular headline one more time, he might scream. He couldn't count how many times he'd heard it.

Gabriel hadn't learned much about botany in college,, but it hadn't stopped him from teaching himself the subject to study the blight. He'd fought hard two years earlier, with his last crop of soybeans. Gabriel had been one of the last farmers standing with soybeans, and he ran himself ragged trying to save even a single seed. But all became blighted in the end, and he'd cursed God and the angels and even himself.

He found out, after he burned it, the other two farmers in town had lost their crops, too. And the other crops, down in Oklahoma, and all the ones across the world, they'd gone out at the same time, too.

Their clock counted down slowly. Corn would fail next. The blight took more and more of it every year, and Gabriel knew one year it would take it all. Damn this this angelic pestilence. It set its sights upon whole swaths of crops, one at a time. Slow. Deadly. Calculating.

The blight definitely had Lucifer's spirit. Of all the horrors he'd rained upon the world, he'd probably not thought his slow moving, annoying blight would get humanity in the end.

Gabriel couldn't pretend at all, not when he knew better. Not when he'd tested the air himself, and seen the nitrogen levels rising, choking the oxygen from the sky. Not when he heard the withered gasps and coughs from the townsfolk.

Humanity had an expiration date, though, unless the angels came back and fixed their mess. And Gabriel now knew the angels hadn't spoken in metaphor about 'leaving the universe,' and from Sam's accounts of the difficulty trans-universal travel posed... yeah. Gabriel knew.

Oh, the Earth would survive. It'd keep on keepin' on, just as it always had. Just... without humans.

He felt an odd comfort at the thought of humans getting about just fine in other universes. Hell, if he'd understood Sam, they damn near thrived at hopping across universes. They didn't need angels to conquer the worlds out there. They could do better.

Maybe Paradise did exist in some worlds, places where maybe angels and humans got along. Infinite possibilities and all, right? He'd have to ask Sam about it sometime.

But it didn't bring a lot of comfort, because Sati lived here, not out there. And Gabriel would give up his soul and suffer a thousand indignities if he could only guarantee her safety. Somehow.

He stumbled inside, after Cas, rubbing at his tired, dusty face, the same as he'd done all day. "Jesus. I'm cleaning up and going to sleep."

"What about dinner?" Cas asked.

"I need sleep more than I need food," he groaned. "Sati needs to eat, though—."

"I'll take care of her," Cas said, putting his hand on Gabriel's shoulder.

"You are the bestest little brother ever," he replied, wrapping his arms around Cas for a brief hug.

"And you are the most annoying big brother one could ask for."

Gabriel snorted, and made his way to the stairs. He felt so tired he didn't even have a comeback. "Gonna check on Sati and give Sam his medicine."

He stumbled upstairs, and knocked on her door. When he heard no answer, he pushed it open, but didn't see her. But he heard her voice, soft through the wooden panels, upstairs.

He groaned. He'd specifically told her not to bother Sam. Irritated as he felt, he didn't worry too much, because he knew Sam wouldn't talk to her, especially since Gabriel had told him not to.

But all at once, his heart leapt into his chest as he remembered he'd never cuffed Sam again after the fight to get all his bones set.

Gabriel had never ascended the steps so quickly in his life, shouting Sati's name in near desperation.

When he crashed through the half-open doorway, he saw his daughter sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book in her lap. Sam laid stone-still in the bed, and for all intents and purposes, did not seem conscious at all. In the lamplight, Gabriel observed a fine sheen of sweat, and worried it might signal a fever.

Gabriel heaved a shaking breath, and turned an angry glare on his daughter. But before he could think to lecture her, Cas' footsteps thundered up the stairs behind him. He looked all the world ready to fight, an angel blade in his hand. And… okay, _Good form, Little Bro_ , but when had he taken to carrying the blade around?

And just what had Gabriel intended to accomplish, bursting into the room, if the archangel had gotten violent? Shout at him?

"What's wrong?" Cas demanded, not the least bit winded from ascending from the ground to the top floor within seconds.

"Nothing," Gabriel huffed. "I'm sorry. I panicked." He glared back down at Sati. "And _this_ one doesn't know how to do what she's told."

"I was just reading to him," she said, voice soft and worried. "He doesn't look like he's feeling well, and stories always make me feel better."

Gabriel wanted to feel angry. He really did. He tried, but Sati's expression held no lies, her eyes shining with innocent honesty. She'd thought reading him a _bedtime story_ would help.

"I'm sure if he were awake and well enough to hear you," he croaked, "he'd appreciate it."

"Samael is too sick for visitors, Sati," Cas told her, stealing a quick glance at Gabriel. "You can read him a story another time, if he doesn't mind."

Gabriel flinched. He hadn't meant for Cas to give her _permission_. But in the long run, keeping Sati out of here forever would prove impossible. And who was he kidding? Sam couldn't go anywhere. He'd had chances to free himself, chances to hurt them, and if anything, he'd only sought to gain Gabriel's trust. While he still hadn't gotten used to the idea of trusting an angel, Sam had sort of grown on him.

As she made her way to the door, Gabriel snaked a hand out to stop her, and turned his most serious Dad Voice on her.

"Sati. You keep doing what I tell you not to do," Gabriel warned her. "Do _not_ come back up here without permission. Is that understood?"

She seemed to deflate, but nodded. "Yes."

"To your room until dinner."

"Yes, sir."

As she slumped her shoulders and left, Gabriel shuddered under a wave of self-reproach, because he felt like such a terrible father. He loved her so much, and had no idea how best to handle her sometimes. How did one properly discipline a child? He felt like he had no idea.

"Samael seems quite ill," Cas stated, staring at him. "He weathered much discomfort earlier, but…"

Gabriel stared at the angel's profile, where he lay on his back, sweating in the light. He remained in the exact same position he'd passed out in earlier, and it made him frown. He should have woken up at least once...

He paced over to Sam's side, and tore back the covers. He'd splinted the top of his leg, where the bone had torn through the skin. But it had more or less seemed a simple enough break. It certainly seemed he'd popped it back in correctly, and as well as Sam's angel senses worked, he had confirmed it. But...

The wound had lost its heat and redness, which made Gabriel cross his arms and frown. The lack of symptoms suggested good things; excellent things, in fact. But if the fever didn't come from _that_ injury...

Hell, it meant horrible things. It meant something deeper. Torn muscle. Maybe even the core of the bone itself. Or maybe because it had been exposed to a friggin' dust storm for two days.

"Infection," Cas commented, from just over his shoulder. "But which wound?"

"Isn't _that_ just the question," Gabriel groused, kneeling beside Sam.

He checked his arm again, because hell, Gabriel might have missed something. But the skin didn't feel hot or otherwise suggestive of an infection. And without advanced medical equipment at his disposal, Gabriel couldn't figure it out.

"There's still a hospital in Saint Louis," Cas said. "And in Indianapolis. We could remove his Grace and take him."

Gabriel made a face. "Those would have been serious drives even back when the Interstates were passable. Now, it'd take days, and I don't know if he could survive it."

Gabriel frowned, staring at Sam's pale, sweaty face. Just what in the hell was he supposed to do? This angel had fallen out of the sky right in front of them, and hadn't even asked for their help—though, in all fairness, he didn't seem capable of asking for anything. If the angel up and died on them, they didn't bear any blame, right? Gabriel didn't have to pull out every stop to save a total stranger's life, especially an _angel's_ life, right?

Right?

He growled in frustration, staring at the angel's still form. "He's really out of it if we can move these limbs around and he's not shouting." He touched Sam's forehead, and sure enough, it felt boiling hot. Probably the bone in the femur had gotten infected, which of course, probably spread easily into the bloodstream. Which meant...

"Sepsis," Gabriel growled, a deep furrow forming in his brow.

"If such is the case," Cas stated, "I imagine we can do little for him." He paused, and seemed to shift behind them. "Will his Grace sustain him?"

An excellent question, but one Gabriel couldn't answer. "He told me before he's sorta died at times when his vessel sustained injury beyond what it could hold up to. So he went into a coma-like state and hovered there while his Grace patched up the messy pieces."

"So, it should sustain him," Cas said.

"He also said he burned out a lot of his own Grace—the stuff from his own universe—when he fell in front of our truck. And without it, he might die for real."

"So then, we do not know."

"No." Gabriel brushed a strand of sweaty hair off the angel's brow, in an strange show of tenderness.

Hey, he could be nice if he wanted, right? Angel or not, it didn't mean anything.

"I'm not sure surviving is the kindest option. If he had just enough Grace to survive the infection, but not beat it back... I don't know, Cas. Do you think he could get stuck like this? In some semi-permanent state of sepsis?"

"You're the scientist. I only deal with field wounds."

Gabriel shook his head. "Yeah, where you used dental floss and whiskey to knit everything back together." He sighed, and stared at the shivering angel.

"If you think death a more humane option, we do have his archangel blade."

The words made his blood run cold, and he didn't know why. After all, he'd shived angels before. The other two had been trying to kill him at the time, so okay, he'd felt plenty justified. But Sam posed no current threat. So far, he'd shown no aggression and no ill will.

But Sam couldn't even if he'd wanted, Gabriel reminded himself. The angel remained too sick to do much more than mumble. And now, he couldn't even open his eyes.

"Let's wait and see," Gabriel told him. "He doesn't want to get stuck in some repeating state, but I don't think he wants to croak just yet, either. I mean, he's on his way home."

He glanced back at Cas, whose eyes squinted in some unreadable emotion. Cas approved of angels even less than Gabriel did, but his little brother had a way of compartmentalizing things and accepting them. He more or less had accepted Raphael's and Hannah's work with humans easily, when they had still been alive, since they'd proven themselves. He had, thus far, seemed irritated but accepting of Sam's presence.

"Very well," he finally answered. "How will we explain this to Sati?"

Ah, yeah. That.

"I suppose we'll tell her the truth," he answered. "Tell her angels can survive even when their bodies become overwhelmed, but Sam is so sick we'll just have to wait and see." His lips curled into a frown. "It wouldn't be the first death she's seen."

And he hated that. He hated his little girl had already seen death; hated how she knew the raspy sound of a child suffering with dust pneumonia. He wished she didn't know the blue and black dappled skin of someone struggling for oxygen.

He had tried to keep her away from Sam, mostly for safety, but also because he didn't want her to get attached, just have him die. She'd feel devastated. But maybe it hadn't happened yet.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course it had. Sati had seen Sam as the exciting new guest, and no matter what Gabriel or Cas said to her, she'd probably been counting the hours until she could sit down next to him and make him her new friend. She'd get upset.

"Sam said he'd been traveling to get back home for more than two-hundred years," Gabriel said, standing. "Let's not count him out yet."

He set about giving the archangel another shot of antibiotics, but they would run out soon. Maybe _tomorrow_ soon, despite Cas' supply run.

"Do you need help?"

"Nah," Gabriel dismissed. "Go on. I've got this."

Cas drifted out of the room, his soft footsteps disappearing down the steps as he left to go make dinner. Gabriel, instead of retreating to his bedroom, sank down in the chair near Sam's bed. Entirely without intending it, he fell fast asleep.

* * *

Late during the night, something woke Gabriel up. He roused easily enough, but he had no idea at first why he'd awakened. He glanced around, and felt unsurprised to realize he'd fallen asleep beside Sam's bed. Again.

The oil lamp burned low, and he had to readjust the wick to get more light. It was some ungodly hour of the night, and he didn't want to bother Sam, but...

He stared down at the archangel, and realized the labored, awful sound of his breath had awakened him. Sam's unsteady respiration broke the silence of the room, strained and rattling.

Oh boy. He'd heard the sort of awful breathing before. A respiratory system gone haywire usually meant an approaching death. He laid a hand flat on Sam's chest, light and gentle. He sounded as though he were drowning.

The noise stirred awful memories. Gabriel had been there when Kali died, when the dust pneumonia had taken her, and he'd had the misfortune to know too many others who had gone out the same way. Yeah, Sam had a death rattle, no doubt about it.

The angel laid before him, maybe dying, and Gabriel could do nothing.

Well, maybe he could help a little. He could give him some more morphine. Not so much as to hurt his ability to breathe, but enough to take away some of the agony. If he were dying for real, it didn't seem fair to make his last moments so horrible.

Gabriel reached over and pulled the blanket over Sam's body, and turned to the cabinet behind him and took out the medicine. They didn't have a lot left, but they could find the stuff easily enough.

The angel stilled somewhat, but his breathing did not improve. But his twitching, tight muscles relaxed, which was about the best Gabriel could do for him at this point. Besides, well, maybe stay with him. He had no idea if Sam didn't want to die alone, or if he might like someone to say a prayer for him. Not that his own Father could hear it, but the God of this universe, wherever He might have gone, might.

He didn't even know if any part of Sam remained awake and aware. But just in case...

He moved to pull his chair right next to the bed, and... well, he tried to offer comfort. Brushed his hair from his face, held his hand... Gabriel had never been good at these sorts of things, but he knew the necessity of it, the pants-shitting fear of being absolutely certain of one's imminent death. He knew the terror, and no matter how bitter or mean he'd ever been, he'd never wanted to die all alone.

Sam was the epitome of alone. Literally no one he knew could comfort him now. He had no angels to help him, and he had no human charges or companions. If he'd had friends or family or lovers, if angels even did those sorts of thing, they all remained a thousand universes away.

Gabriel didn't want to drag anyone else up here. Sati would cry, and he didn't want to expose her to the situation any more than he already had. And Cas, well... he could probably care less whether an archangel lived or died. His genuine concern remained somewhat muted on a good day, but he lacked ability at all to _fake_ concern, which Gabriel could sorta do on a good day.

But his concern wasn't fake, which surprised him more than anything. If he took stock of things, he _didn't_ want Sam to die. His story seemed so damn unfair Gabriel wanted him to live just so the archangel could stick his middle finger up at the multiverse when he finally got home. He wanted some sort of justice or triumph in all the suffering.

Instead, Sam gargled and choked beneath him, lacking the ability to cough.

Jesus. This all seemed so _unfair_. Sam seemed kind enough, and maybe he'd started out as a regular douche angel and had to get all the nasty stuff knocked out of him, but didn't it matter he'd eventually gotten to the nicer end of the spectrum? But when did anyone care about kindness in the real world, among the brutal, bitter swirl of survival?

He sat with Sam, and eventually scooped his arm under the back of his neck, elevating him slightly so he could breathe easier. And he tried to reassure him and say kind things, but mostly, he just wanted the angel to know he didn't rest there, suffering all alone in a dusty, cramped attic room.

Sometime, just after midnight, Sam took a sudden, sharp breath, and stopped breathing all together. He fell into his Grace-induced stasis.

As Gabriel set his head back upon the pillow, and covered his body with the blanket, he frowned. Now they played a waiting game to see if the angel had died for real, or if the vessel had just gone into a deep state of healing..

* * *

If Sam hadn't actually died, his body did a damn good impression of it.

It had taken actual force to keep Sati out of the room, involving picking her up and carrying her out to the truck, and snapping the seatbelt in place (followed by Cas hopping into the driver's seat to take her to school).

As Gabriel set about the usual morning tasks on the farm (as much as he kind of wanted to keep a constant eye on Sam, he just couldn't afford the time. The farm needed maintenance, and he'd put it off for too long), he kept thinking of Sam's body up in the little spare room. The seven-hour interval he had mentioned before had come and gone just after Sati awakened, and there had been no sign of life in the angel yet.

However, his body had an utter lack of rigor mortis, which suggested good things, he hoped. It took a few hours to set in, but after seven hours, Sam's body had remained completely limp. It either said something about angels in general, or stood as a testament to his Grace maintaining and repairing the body. It still counted as a human body, right? Sorta?

Well, Gabriel wasn't sure which, but he chose to believe it meant good things.

He had the farm mostly automated during the growing seasons. Scavenged computers controlled the combines and tools, usually powered by solar collectors. Gabriel spent endless mornings checking and double-checking hard drives and driving systems, ensuring everything performed as programmed. He needed new solar cells, but it would never happen. Nor would he likely find enough crap to scrape together a makeshift solar cell anytime soon. So, like everyone else, he had to resort to oil at times. Not exactly an environmentally conscious choice, but if it came to that or starvation…

Around lunchtime, he trotted back inside. Cas had not returned from town yet. On Fridays he stayed gone most of the day—though Gabriel had no idea where he vanished to.

After scrubbing the mud off his hands, he made his first stop in the spare room upstairs.

Sam remained entirely stationary and did not breathe, and Gabriel felt the tiny bit of hope he'd nursed start to wane away. A check of the unbroken arm, and he'd still not shown any signs of rigor mortis. At twelve hours in, he found the lack of it impressive.

He returned a few hours later, and sank down in the chair next to him. He'd have to come up with something to explain to Sati when she got home. And he'd promised Sam he'd wait twenty-four hours. Which would pass in another nine hours, about.

While he sat there, considering all the horrible things that came together to end in an archangel's death, the bed creaked.

Gabriel froze, his eyes flitting towards Sam.

He remained still, but only for a moment. All at once, his eyes flew open, and he inhaled with such force his back arched off the bed. Gabriel rushed to his side in an instant as the angel sucked in a second, desperate breath, and a third. And a fourth. All as though he could not suck in enough oxygen.

Gabriel rubbed his back and told him everything would turn out all right—a total lie, because he had no idea.

After several pained breaths, Sam began to cough violently, a fit so terrible it made Gabriel's chest hurt in sympathy.

Slowly, he began to settle down, his entire body trembling.

"I'm not even gonna lie, kiddo. It's great to see you awake. I thought you'd gone and died on us."

Sam continued to draw in deep, half-panicked breaths, but his eyes met Gabriel's. They were cloudy; maybe in pain, maybe in oxygen deprivation.

"How long?" he croaked, his voice an awful rasp.

"Fifteen hours. Gotta tell you, kiddo, that was the best impression of stone cold dead I've ever seen. Scared the hell out of me."

Sam let his head fall back on the pillow, and his breathing turned shallow. "Never so long before."

"What can I do?" Gabriel asked, sliding closer. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sam shook his head, his breath now rapid.

"Take it easy," Gabriel said, and reassumed the role he'd taken the night before, brushing Sam's hair from his face. "There's plenty of air. You're gonna make it worse..."

Something akin to a whine sounded deep in Sam's throat, and it tore at Gabriel to hear it. The angel sounded so small and pained.

"I do not care for this experience," Sam finally managed. "It is terrifying."

"I don't doubt it," Gabriel replied through a grimace. "But you're okay now. You're here. And your fever has gone away."

The angel swallowed, and seemed to choke on it. Gabriel about fell over trying to get to his own glass of water, and offered it to Sam, who drank every drop.

"I am slightly more aware and capable than before," he said, his voice much improved after the water. "The fever has dissipated, and the bones have returned to their correct positions. However, a miniscule fragment has splintered off and jutted into the surrounding muscle."

Of _course_ something else had gone wrong..

"Don't suppose your Grace managed to fix that...?"

The lines of Sam's face tightened. "Not yet, but I shall try. Otherwise, it will again cause another infection, which shall overwhelm me."

Gabriel frowned, staring down at the aforementioned thigh. "If you were human, you'd need surgery," Gabriel commented.

"I am aware."

God. He sounded tired in incomprehensible ways. But both of them had to be thinking the same thing, right?

"I don't have an x-ray or anything, but if you could guide me, or somehow lead me, I could cut it out."

Sam's face remained distant, but he nodded. "Yes. I believe you could."

He grimaced at the tone of his voice. "I promise, I'm not trying to inflict pain on you every time we meet."

Sam exhaled, a soft chuckle. "I know. It simply becomes... tiring." He sighed. "But removing the fragment will help. I can repair tissue more easily than I can force the fragment back into place."

"Isn't it an important chunk of bone?" he asked. "A big guy like you needs all of his skeleton."

"I am uncertain. Probably. Eventually, this universe's Grace may help me restore it."

Probably. Ha. As Gabriel sat there, trying to think of the logistics of the thing, Sam turned his head to the window.

"What time is it?"

Gabriel glanced down at his watch. "Just after two. In the afternoon."

He grimaced, and stared again at the window. "I am as strong now as I shall be."

Gabriel sort of stared in confusion for a minute, and nearly quipped 'good for you' before it occurred to him what Sam had suggested.

"Waaaait, you want to do it right _now_?"

Sam met his eyes, and it seemed the word ''yes' sat upon his lips, but he faltered. "At your convenience." He hesitated again. "If you have any desire to continue this arduous task, that is. I do not blame you if you do not."

"Let me tell you something, kiddo. It's never convenient or fun for me to start digging inside of someone's body. But what do you think I'm gonna do? Just dump you on the side of the road and leave you to die?"

Sam seemed entirely unfazed, and gave him an undramatic, muted shrug. "I would not blame you if you had tired of me by now."

He paused, frowning as he stared down. "Jesus, Sam. What sort of people do you normally run into? I mean, if you expect treatment like _that_..."

Sam leaned back against the bed, a tired sigh slipping from his lips. "All sorts. Some are kind. Some are less than. I suppose I am used to the 'less than' variety." He paused, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "I also do not know how to accept selfless charity when so freely given, such as in your case. Being an archangel, I've always been the one giving favors and granting healing. Even after nearly three-hundred years of wandering aimlessly, it has not been easy to learn to accept."

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, and didn't know what to say. Not that it mattered, not that Sam expected an answer, but still.

"Well, just... lay there and try to get better. You can pay for it by living."

He felt a bloom of surprise in his gut by how much he meant it. He dropped his hand to his lap.

"We're gonna figure this all out. We'll get you sorted out and all, and you'll be up and moving again soon. If you're so worried about paying us back, well, you can help out or something for a while when you're back on your feet. There's a million things to do around here all the time."

Sam gave him a stupidly grateful gaze, and Gabriel had even less of an idea what to do.

"I thank you," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "I would be honored to assist you."

It seemed almost funny, hearing the angel talk about some point in the future when he might be able to move around well enough to do some work, as though Gabriel might grant the greatest honor they could possibly bestow upon him. So in his head, Gabriel skipped right over it. He didn't want to talk about it yet.

"So you really want to do this now? I mean, you just sort of died, and you want me to start slicing into you already?"

"I'd rather you not do it at all," Sam replied, and a hitch in his voice; hesitation. "I do not enjoy all this pain. But if it is not done, I will only experience more to come."

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck again, and sighed. "Well. Can't argue with logic like that." He mentally surveyed all the tools he had for the job, and remembered a stainless steel scalpel in the emergency first-aid kit he kept above the second-floor closet door. The Big First-Aid Kit, as he called it, because he'd packed it with all manner of sterile things after happening across a destroyed clinic in Texas one time, and finding some things in the rubble.

He left the room to retrieve the kit. The scalpel could be purified again later. Easy enough. Boil it. Let it soak in high-proof alcohol for a week.

"I'm no surgeon," Gabriel warned him as he returned. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"You have steady hands," Sam commented. "I've watched you work with them."

Had he, now? Huh. Well, maybe it seemed a bit creepy, but then again, Sam hadn't had anything else to do while he'd been here except observe his visitors—which primarily consisted of Gabriel.

"If you do not mind the question," he asked, "are you a hunter?"

Gabriel swiped the lid of the kit, and tried not to howl with laughter. "Me? Oh, god no. Could you imagine me with a collection of guns and demon-knives, all ready to go and kill a bunch of monsters?"

"I need imagine nothing," Sam answered. "I have seen it many times."

Gabriel felt his eye twitch. "Seriously?" He turned his head to glance back at the angel. "I can't even imagine."

"I am glad you've not borne such a burden in this world."

He snorted. "Oh, I've been plenty burdened. Just not with a hunter's job. That honor went to Cas. He became the prodigy hunter. I mean, I did a stint in Purgatory this one time with him, but I never did any real hunting."

"How did you end up in Purgatory?" Sam asked, his jaw slack in amazement.

"That's a long story," Gabriel answered, after a long moment of consideration. "When I was in the Air Force, after they scrubbed me as a pilot, I spent time studying all sorts of supernatural stuff, trying to find some order in it. I mean, we had the Apocalypse raining down on us, and everyone panicked because we had angels and demons flying around, and monsters galore. So, I ended up working with an angel to find a way to suck all the monsters into Purgatory."

"Did it work?"

"Yep. But we got too close, and it sucked me and Cas right along with all the monsters," he answered. "It took two months, but we found our way back out. Purgatory doesn't like human occupants, turns out."

He pulled out things from the Big Kit he thought he would need. The scalpel, all packaged up and sterile. Gauze. Yeah, probably needed towels and everything...

"You were a pilot?" the angel asked.

"Used to be," Gabriel answered, "when there were still planes to fly. Guess you've met similar versions of me, eh?"

"No. You are the first."

And at that? Gabriel snorted. "Well, all of those Gabriels made better choices. I sucked at it. My brain always did better in the laboratory than the air."

It wasn't entirely true, but he had no reason to go digging up old wounds.

"Are you a scientist?" Sam asked.

"Postdoc in mechanical engineering," Gabriel answered. "Studied a lot of physics along the way. I always did enjoy building things other people thought were weird." A chuckle slipped past his lips, tired and bitter. "Should have gone into biology or biochemistry, or something useful instead."

When he glanced back at the angel, he'd furrowed his brow, lips parted.

"I can hardly think of a situation in which a mechanical engineer could provide no utility," he said. "You may work a farm, but I imagine your skillset has many applications here."

Gabriel turned back to the countertop, because he didn't enjoy staring at Sam's expression. He appeared interested and warm and a lot of other things Gabriel didn't want to think about. And maybe just a little bit right, too, because Gabriel _did_ build a ton of things to try and make life easier for Sati and Cas. And maybe himself, too, if he answered honestly.

"Maybe a few things," he admitted. "But I still wish I'd gone into one of the biological fields."

He took his tools and set them on a stool near Sam's bedside. The angel eyed them warily.

"What did you fly?" he asked.

Gabriel worked with Sam to maneuver a thick, old towel beneath his leg to catch any dripping blood.

"Airplanes, jets. This one classified thing called a Ranger, once upon a time."

Sam's eyes narrowed, and Gabriel worried he could read right through his short answers.

"Tell me about this Ranger."

"You ask a hell of a lot of questions," Gabriel growled, but at Sam's expression, he just sighed, and gave up. "The Ranger was designed to be space-capable."

"Did you fly it that far?" he asked.

"Once," he answered, tearing a package open. "Flew it just past the rim of the atmosphere... just before I crashed it."

Sam just stared, his face softening. "What happened?"

"You're not going to drop this, are you?"

Sam hesitated. "You do not have to speak on the matter. I am sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

Gabriel sighed, and rubbed his face, eyes fluttering shut.

"Something went wrong," he shrugged. "It seemed like mechanical failure, but it was probably pilot error—I screwed up, somehow. Anyway, one minute the ship flew, the next, we were diving from the stratosphere with virtually no control." He paused. "The co-pilot died in the wreck. Somehow, I didn't."

Sam said nothing, but stared with sad, sympathetic eyes. Gabriel turned away.

After a long moment, Gabriel laughed, bitter and hateful and awful, and he pressed his face in his hand. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It's not like any of this is your problem."

"Perhaps that makes it easier."

He had to admit, Sam had good point. "Maybe."

The failure still burned at him, bitter and hard and strong. He tried not to remember it.

"Listen, we've got maybe an hour before Sati and Cas are gonna be here," Gabriel said. "If we're going to do this, we should just get on with it."

Sam made a noise, and stared down at his leg. And nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam slept quietly after the barbaric procedure (Gabriel refused to call it surgery). He'd given him more medicine; morphine for the pain, and more antibiotics. He'd sterilized the wound as much as possible, and covered it over with the best tincture of antibiotic medicine he still had.

Cleaning up before Sati came running in and saw blood everywhere took much effort, and a flurry of quick thinking to hide the offending linens.

But Gabriel stared at the sleeping angel after he'd cleaned up, and worried. If something dramatic didn't change, if his Grace didn't start working properly (and he had no reason to think it would, given what he'd seen under the microscope), Sam would plummet back into poor shape all over again, and soon.

So what to do? He couldn't drag the oversized guy into a hospital, not yet. They'd detect his Grace for sure. Gabriel could remove it and hide his angelic nature, but could Sam even survive without it right now?

But apart from rumors, Gabriel didn't know if the hospitals in Indianapolis or Saint Louis still took new patients. Hell, Gabriel didn't even know if Sam could survive the damn trip, with or without Grace.

Wait, when had this changed from 'didn't want to make the trip' to 'he needed it but might not survive it'?

Gabriel rubbed his face, tired and running on too little sleep. This whole situation had become so fucked up.

A telltale plume of dust signaled a vehicle riding down the dirt road in the distance, and a short while later, the growling, awful noise of Cas' car came into earshot.

Predictably, Sati bounded out of the passenger's seat and up to the door before Cas could catch her. Gabriel swept her up in his arms before she could sprint inside.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided. "He's sleeping and you're not to wake him up."

She swung her legs impatiently in his grasp, but Gabriel just held tighter. She gave him an expression powerful enough to melt a thousand hearts.

"Can I see him later?" she asked.

Well, at least she'd asked this time.

"Sure. If it's okay with him." Gabriel tapped the tip of her nose, just enough to elicit a giggle from her. "But not right now, okay? He needs to sleep."

"Okay."

* * *

In the following days, things went about ten thousand times better than Gabriel had ever hoped for. Sam didn't get any worse—the opposite, actually—and Sati listened and stayed out of his room.

And they said miracles never happened.

Gabriel began to put feelers out, surveying others casually about the possibility of getting to a hospital somewhere. He heard from one person that Des Moines had closed its doors, and Indianapolis didn't take anyone without a referral. But Saint Louis still had a functional, if primitive, hospital, still capable of surgery. If only he didn't have to drive five hundred miles to get there.

He'd hesitate to make the trip all by himself, even when healthy and under good circumstances. Braving it with a sick angel splayed out in his backseat seemed like a recipe for disaster. Besides, they now had a reputation for only taking children and their parents as patients, which meant he'd have to drag Sati along and pretend Sam was her father.

He _could_ brave a trip all the way down to the far-distant El Paso hospital as a last resort, but Gabriel didn't want to get that far south for anything. The blight ravaged crops ten times worse in the hotter climates. It'd be just his luck he'd bring some exotic strain of it back up to Kansas with him.

Maybe Sam would keep getting better, and they wouldn't need to take the trip at all.

But in the meantime, Gabriel studied tiny pieces of Sam's Grace—this time, with the angel's permission—which had sloughed off during various procedures. Tiny drops of blood infused with Grace glowed underneath his microscope. Gabriel extracted and studied it. Not that he had much idea what to do with it yet. The archangel didn't understand why he wanted to study it, but he'd not disapproved, so Gabriel charged forward.

He wondered about those offending, extra-universal bits out of Grace, and how he might remove them without damaging his original Grace. And for the moment, he didn't know how to separate out pieces of the vibrating mess underneath his microscope.

He had ideas, though. Beta particles, maybe. Photon packets. All sorts of crazy tricks might work.

Gabriel found himself ridiculously pleased to to blabber about an experiment to someone who more or less understood him. Not that Cas didn't try, but he wasn't a scientist. Sati could be, one day, maybe, but not yet. But it didn't stop her from trying to keep pace. With nothing else to keep her busy during the storms, she read and read, and knew more than most her age.

When the archangels had said, decades ago, they 'knew everything', Gabriel hadn't thought about how their knowledge extended to the basic rules of the universe. Why would they need to know how it worked if they cheated and used their party tricks? But Sam had a full working knowledge of the mechanics of his own universe, and most rules matched up with Gabriel's universe. When Sam related some facts he'd picked up, such as the universality of relativity between all the universes, Gabriel had stared in open surprise. The speed of light? The pull and power of gravity? The dissemination of energy (even if the types of energy differed slightly)? All the same.

Sam had requested books to read while recovering. This led to Gabriel's current problem. The books became increasingly scrambled due to Sati's reckless attitude at returning them. Oh, sure, she put them back precisely the way she should, but not in the right boxes.

He left the dusty room and lumbered down the narrow passage, intent on marching down to Sati's room to ask where on earth the book on biological resistance had gone. Instead, he heard her voice nearby, just down the attic's cramped hallway.

Goddamn it. She'd parked herself in Sam's room.

This time, he didn't feel the rush of panic or concern, at least not for her sake. Sam's recovery remained fitful at best, and he could go from good to horrible in about three seconds flat.

He rounded the corner...

"I know you can't talk to me," she said, "but I'm—."

"Saaati," Gabriel groaned as he stalked into the room.

She glanced up at him, all innocence and curiosity. Sam stared resolutely up at the ceiling, as though the situation caused him physical pain. Gabriel had to wonder if it was because Sati was bothering him, or because he didn't want to talk.

Well, Gabriel had sort of forbid the whole thing, and never thought to recant it. Oops.

"Sati," he said, kneeling. "Sam is still getting better. You can't just march in here and bother him unannounced. You need his permission."

"He only ever told me he couldn't talk to me," she complained. "How come you get to talk to him and I never do?"

Ugh. Gabriel rubbed his face, covering his eyes a moment. When he looked up, Sam's eyes were on him, curious and just a bit reluctant.

"I'm sorry, Sati. I didn't make myself clear before. Of course he can talk to you, and you can talk to him. But you have to ask him if it's okay, and if he seems tired, you should go. Sam is still sick."

Sati chirped with excitement, and spun to face Sam, a giant grin on her face. Sam's eyebrows curved in surprise, and his expression seemed to ask a question.

"Hi!" Sati chirped, far too loud. "I'm Sati. Sati Novak."

"I... uh..." Sam seemed utterly lost for words, and Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of an overgrown archangel, speechless before a little girl. His eyes flitted to Gabriel once more, as if asking permission, and Gabriel nodded. Might as well, right?

"I am Samael," he finally answered, voice uncertain. "But most call me Sam. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sati."

She stared back, hands clasped behind her back, her weight thrown on her left foot. "Can I call you Sam, too?"

The angel smiled, his face warm and bright and kind, and even though he hadn't directed it at him, Gabriel felt his insides do a flip at the sight of such a radiant smile.

"Of course," he answered her, a soft chuckle in his voice. The angel probably regretted the laughter, as Gabriel caught the _slightest_ of winces as the angel's ribs shook.

A moment of silence floated between them, which was unusual for Sati, and Gabriel moved to fill it.

"That's probably enough, Sati," Gabriel broke in, allowing his hands to drop on her shoulders. "Sam needs to rest."

She tilted her head backwards to stare up at him, and god, she'd turned her best puppy-eyed stare on him. He'd kill Cas for ever teaching it to her.

"And," he added, "I need my book on biological resistance."

Her face screwed up into something sour. "But I don't have it. I put it back."

"You didn't put it in the right box, kiddo," he told her. "Don't suppose you remember where you put it?"

She nodded, eager and quick. "The one on the table."

Gabriel could cry, because five boxes sat on the table in the other room. "Show me?"

"Bye, Sam!" she chirped, and bolted from the room. "Visit you again soon!" she called out from down the hall.

Gabriel threw Sam an apologetic glance, but the archangel didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he looked amused, and maybe just a bit pleased...

...and Gabriel remembered he'd been cooped up in there for a week with little to do other than sit quietly and suffer. So maybe Sati provided a pleasant distraction.

"Is that not a book significantly beyond her current level of development?" he asked, soft and curious.

"Maybe other seven-year-olds," Gabriel answered, "but Sati is determined to learn it all." He shrugged. "Besides, she likes the pictures."

Sam nodded, thoughtful. "She is descended from intelligent parents."

Gabriel snorted. "Yeah. She had a smart _mother_."

Sam deflated, just a fraction. "I believe her father underestimates himself in that department."

"That's only because you don't know me well yet," Gabriel laughed, turning to leave the room.

As he turned, he just caught the warm, soft lines of Sam's smile, and it made Gabriel's heart tighten.

* * *

In the process of carting over books for Sam to read, Gabriel found himself just this side of embarrassed, especially since Sam felt better.

Gabriel hadn't had an impressive male specimen to look at in... well... a long time. Not that some of the folks in town were anything to sneeze at, but they were all old friends, or acquaintances too dumb to show any real promise. And most of them were straight as fucking arrows, which did Gabriel no good, since he was anything but.

Sati had been a complete and total accident, borne of him and his best friend getting so fucked up they couldn't even remember the sex they'd apparently had the night before (also, it was 'the world's going to end and we're all going to die so let's get hammered together' kind of sex, so, not exactly normal circumstances). But Sati had been a pleasant accident, the kind of accident that came as a shock before you realized the precious thing life had handed you; the sort of thing maybe you'd always wanted and never realized it. Gabriel had never seriously thought about becoming a father before. Afterwards, he couldn't imagine his life without his daughter in it.

Kali had named her Sati: Existence, fire, truth.

Of course, back then they'd all thought the world would live a little longer. There'd been more to eat and the end of everything seemed far away, on the order of a century or more. Neither Gabriel nor Kali had realized how quickly everything would sour.

Some of the first people had gotten sick. The government blamed the dust for simple irritation of people's lungs. When the first people began to die, the remnants of the Red Cross moved in, trying to cure people. They called it a resurgence of dust pneumonia, the likes of which hadn't stricken the nation since the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.

When Sati was only six months old, Kali got sick, too. And no matter what Gabriel did, or which doctor he took her to, all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put her lungs back together again.

Cas moved in to help with the farm, and with Sati. He'd never left, so six years on, they kept doing their thing. Working quietly, and all without complaint—others had it worse, after all—and doing their part to feed the world. And Gabriel had long given up on the idea of romance, because he knew he would never find another man in a world on the brink like this one.

And then Sam fell out of the sky right in front of them, burning wings and all, and Gabriel found himself questioning whether it was unholy to have a crush on an archangel.

He should have known he'd go and get a little attached. Gabriel's mind and body starved for some kind of romantic attention. He felt old, sure, but he wasn't dead. He'd told himself over and over again how pointless it was to hold out hope, but that didn't mean his body listened when a chiseled dude danced around in various states of undress right in front of him.

He'd gone from fearful suspicion to mild dislike to _interest_ in quick succession, and considering the amount of time he spent hovering over the angel's sweaty body, he couldn't believe he hadn't started having wet dreams yet. Sam had the sort of body a guy could dream about, tall with strong, solid muscles, and legs that went on forever. _And_ he somehow stayed fucking kind after everything he'd been through, which impressed Gabriel—not the least because he'd become a bitter, angry bastard himself, but still.

The scrapes and cuts on Sam's face and neck had mostly healed by now, leaving angry red lines where blood had once been. Gabriel wondered if they'd scar over or if his Grace would heal them.

More pressing for Gabriel, he wondered if the angel could read minds. Most angels could, right? And did he know a graceful way to ask him?

These were the real questions, apparently. Gabriel could die of the shame of it, if he weren't so irritated he felt any shame to begin with. So what did it matter if Sam were an archangel? Gabriel could admire a nice specimen, right? It wasn't as if he got an opportunity to do it any other time. Even if Sam were, you know, fucked up and injured.

Yeah, creeping on an sick angel was _totally_ kosher.

One day, while sitting upstairs in his room during a daily check of the angel's wounds, Gabriel just blurted out the question in a way he hoped sounded like mild curiosity.

"Can you read minds and stuff?"

Sam seemed startled, and blinked. "Pardon me?"

"You know, the angels here had a nasty habit of eavesdropping on our thoughts. Guess they felt entitled and all, since we're just lowly humans."

Sam's eyebrows slowly knitted together, his lips curling in a frown. He didn't answer straight away, but eventually he nodded.

"I can, when I have more power," he said. "I cannot at the moment."

Gabriel hated the relief he felt. "So as you get better you'll start getting our thoughts on broadcast, too?"

Sam shook his head. "Absolutely not."

His vehement response attracted Gabriel's stare.

"That is... I would not do that," Sam clarified. "Though in some situations, I cannot keep your thoughts _out_. I do not go looking for them." He made a weak gesture with his hand.

"Huh," Gabriel commented, and proceeded to apply fresh gauze to Sam's wound. His leg felt firm and warm under his hands, and... _ahem_. "What kind of situations?" he asked with as much detachment as he could feign.

"Close contact," he answered, without missing a beat.

Gabriel _froze_ , his heart leaping in his chest.

Sam huffed, amused. "Closer than that," he answered. "I would not eavesdrop on your thoughts, Gabriel. I would warn you. You've told me of the arrogance and harm angels have wrought upon your world. I do not care to add to it."

Gabriel continued his work, and he tried to throw Sam an amused glance. "I've set your bones and had my hands _inside_ your leg trying to get crap out. How much closer does someone need to get?"

Sam's amusement evaporated away into something thoughtful. "I imagine if I were of normal strength, that would be enough. But otherwise, you'd need to be within the span of my Grace."

Gabriel had no idea what that meant exactly, and his silence must have been telling, because Sam continued to explain.

"That is, when it works properly. It does not seem to on this world. Besides, I do try to 'tune out' the thoughts of others. I have learned on my travels that mind-reading is not typically appreciated."

Gabriel figured he had no reason to lie. He finished wrapping up the wound, and carefully tucked the gauze in so it wouldn't slip.

"Yeah, that's a safe bet for this world, too," he finally said. "And I wouldn't go around telling anyone you're an angel, either."

Sam stared back at him, a question forming in his eyes, his brow scrunching into a cute little furrow.

Gabriel kind of wanted to kiss it.

He cleared his throat, and concentrated on actual problems. "I'd take you to a hospital to get something proper done about your leg, but most big places still have Grace detectors. No idea if they still work or not, but if you were found out, well, they wouldn't much care which universe you came from."

A grim understanding marred the angel's face, and he laid his head back upon his pillow, breaking eye contact with Gabriel.

"I see," he said, and sounded tired. He had every reason to sound exhausted.

"I'm still trying to figure out a way around it, though," Gabriel blurted out. "I mean, I know we had angels here who had their Grace stolen, and they had some sort of warding on their skin to protect them from being detected. If I just knew how, and knew how to put it back, we'd be able to take you."

Sam's eyes flitted back in his direction. "You want to remove my Grace?" he asked, sounding alarmed. "But... it has sustained me."

"I think it's also killing you," Gabriel answered. "I've been staring at the stuff under a microscope every night for a week now. Most of it's vibrating out of control, and it's made of stuff I don't even recognize. Sure, it's keeping you afloat right now, but you're also not _really_ healing, are you?"

Sam looked away, his eyes going unfocused on the ceiling once more. "No."

"Hey, I'm..." Gabriel gestured weakly, and sighed. "I don't give up on a problem, okay? I know you don't know me yet, not really, but I'm not going to give up. I'm gonna figure it out."

That attracted those strange, hazel eyes once more. "I do not understand. What are you attempting to 'figure out'? It is Grace."

"Ah," Gabriel said, and scooted closer. "But it's the Grace of a thousand universes, right? I'm pretty sure I know which one is yours, and which Grace is from this universe. If I can get rid of all the other crap floating around in there, well..." He paused, and sighed again. "I think you'd feel a lot better if you had two universes of Grace in there, as opposed to who-knows-how-many."

Sam's eyes narrowed, his voice amazed. "Is that even possible?" And then: "You can see the distinctness of different universes within my Grace?"

"Yup," Gabriel answered. "And so long as you're here, I'm gonna try to figure it out. At least when you leave us, maybe I can send you off in better shape than you arrived."

For a long moment, silence fell, and Gabriel focused on tending to some of Sam's other wounds. Sam's voice sounded so tired when he did speak.

"My kind have made a nuisance of themselves in many universes. It shames me to have witnessed our arrogance and to know the damage we've done to those we were supposed to protect." He paused, and sighed. "And yet, you still attempt to assist me."

Gabriel made a face. "Quit that, already. You're here. We're going to try to help. Just deal with it."

Sam fell silent a long moment, and glanced at him. "How did I behave, here?" he asked. "If you knew of me, that is."

"Sorry, kiddo," Gabriel answered. "Before you crashed into the ground right in front of me, I'd never even laid eyes on you." He tugged at a piece of gauze. "There's no mention of a Samael in any angelic lore, and Cas has never heard of you." Gabriel shrugged. "You might not even exist here at all."

"Ah." He relaxed his head against the pillow once more. "I've been in worlds where such was the case."

Gabriel chuckled, and shook his head. "So, you've mentioned other versions of me! Did you know me back in your home?"

"Yes, and I've met many others."

That hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting. "How? Didn't you say you'd been traveling for hundreds of years?"

"From my perspective, yes," Sam answered. "Time is relative."

Gabriel shook his head. "So there are disturbances in time out there, too?"

"Yes, but time does not work the same way 'out there' as it does within a universe. The realm jumpers could explain it better than I. They say there is no time at all between universes unless another force acts upon one of their roads."

While he wanted to ask about a dozen questions, Gabriel paused, a frown on his lips.

"Realm jumpers?" he asked, backing up the conversation.

"Ah." Sam sighed. "Humans who have made careers of jumping between universes. They are talented at it. Out there, they reign as the masters of the multiverse. The angels travel between realms because they allow it, not the other way around."

"Humans rule all the spaces between, eh? Sounds kind of cool."

"You would fit in well," Sam told him. "They have constructed places where different realm jumpers converge. I had attempted to make my way to one such place when a disturbance knocked me off course here."

"And what exactly do all those travelers do, exactly?" Gabriel couldn't keep the curiosity from his voice.

Sam smiled faintly. "Many trade for profit or glory, and return home. Others are humanitarians, and help evacuate decaying universes. Some are scientists, who research plagues and diseases, and probably even blights, all to help other humans across the multiverse." He sighed. "If I could leave, I would take samples of your blight with me, and beseech them to research it. Time would be on their side, as opposed to here. A dozen years might pass while they work, while only a year may pass here."

Gabriel blinked. "That's one _hell_ of difference in time. Why are we moving so slow relative to them?"

"The disturbance which knocked me here is the trans-universal equivalent of a supermassive black hole. The realm jumpers founded a station nearby to study it." He paused. "Not _too_ nearby, though."

The tidbit of info had his stomach done up in a knot. "Are we in danger here from this... uh... black hole?"

Sam shook his head. "It won't destroy this universe, if that is your question. It is a cluster of universes, all gathered together like stars. A unity of existence."

"It must put out some immense gravity," Gabriel murmured, his eyes going distant as he considered it.

"Yes. Even the roads in this part of the multiverse are dangerous to traverse. I knew before leaping into the last leg of the road I would lose two years to relativity before I arrived, but.. well, I had no choice."

Damn. _Damn_. "That is... something." Gabriel frowned. "How far are we from this thing?"

"Not far," Sam admitted. "And when this universe joins with it, I shall never leave here again. I will not have the power to escape."

"Why would you take a risk like that?" Gabriel breathed. "I'd have gone another way."

Sam huffed, soft and barely there. "I was, as you might imagine, desperate. I'd hoped to limp my way to the realm jumpers and rest a while."

Gabriel reached for the antiseptic, and began to dab at a few wounds still red and open on his chest. Sam hissed, soft but still audible, discomfort written in the lines of his face. Well, at least he preferred talking during these less-than-pleasant appointments of theirs.

"Do you have friends there?"

"Hm?"

"At, uh… this place. You said you hoped to rest there, so you must have friends, right?"

"Oh. Ah..." Sam hesitated, and finally sighed. "They are always a bit partial to helping a Samael who gets lost, I suppose."

Gabriel frowned. "What? So you're not the only Samael lost out there?"

"Far from it," he answered. "I know for certain of six others. And there are more archangels of different names and purposes still, lost in one way or another.

Gabriel 'hmmed,' and kept working. "You know, this is interesting and all, but we're off topic." At Sam's confused glance, he grinned. "You were going to tell me about me!"

The angel's brow furrowed in confusion for a bare instant, and then he laughed, full and hardy. A hand instantly clapped over his ribs, accompanied by a wince.

"Do not... make me laugh," he wheezed, but continued chuckling.

"Come on, now," Gabriel said. "Spill it! You said I'd become a hunter, riiiight?"

"You are," he answered, his laughter stilling. "Just as brilliant, but your knowledge and capabilities are applied in another manner. You averted the entire apocalypse with the help of your brother, and your wife."

Gabriel's hands stilled for an instant. "Wife, eh? Let me guess. Kali?"

Sam nodded. "I had not said anything, but I could not help but notice Sati seems to resemble her."

"Yeah, Kali is her mother," Gabriel answered. "Was. Before the dust got her."

The angel's expression softened. "I am sorry for your loss."

Gabriel hummed in response, trying to shake it off. "She was too good for this world. Too good for me, anyway." He ground his teeth. "She deserved Heaven, but it's long been shut tight. So I hope she's found peace out there in the Veil somewhere."

Sam said nothing for a long while, and just stared back. "I've never met another Sati. She must be rare and unique."

Gabriel sighed. "She was a happy accident. I wouldn't trade her for the world."

"I must admit, I am curious. After all this time, you have not remarried?"

Gabriel snorted. "I wasn't married to begin with. And oh, sure, I could have... if I swung that way."

Sam frowned, and tilted his head. "You prefer the company of men?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. It does me _a lot_ of good out here in the middle of nowhere, right at the end of the world, let me tell you. The only men I see are the idiots in town and my brother." He peeled the backing off of a bandage and carefully affixed it over a wound. "Say, where you come from, is that a bad thing?"

Sam blinked, and glanced down. "I do not understand."

"Being gay, you know. Romantic interest in your own gender?"

"Not at all," Sam answered, "though I suppose there were humans who made much noise over it. But in Heaven, we did not think it strange at all. We angels were created with neither sex nor gender."

"Yeah, but you're in a guy's body," Gabriel answered.

"But I've had female vessels before," Sam pointed out.

Gabriel chuckled, even though he couldn't quite imagine it. He patted down the last wound, and sighed. "So, what does Sam like?"

"Like?"

"Men? Women? Both?" Gabriel hazarded a glance at the angel's confused expression. "Neither?"

"Oh," he breathed, and looked away, and... was that the edge of a blush on his cheeks? "I've never done anything of the sort before."

Gabriel hummed. "Nothing wrong with that. I've known some people who didn't enjoy romance and sex, either."

"No, you misunderstand. I... I'm not immune from desire, from... ah... lust. But I've never acted on such a thing before."

How interesting.

"Why not?"

"Improper timing," Sam answered. "Lack of opportunity." He paused. "Perhaps, more honestly, fear."

"Big guy like you, I bet the ladies—or the guys, whatever you prefer—I bet they all fall at your feet. You should have more confidence in the future."

He glanced down at Sam again, and couldn't mistake the redness of his face. How fucking cute. The archangel felt shy.

"I find both quite appealing, at times." He glanced away. "I do not seem to make any distinctions between gender, or sex, or species, even."

 _Extremely_ interesting. And absolutely the kind of news that did nothing but stoke the flames of Gabriel's stupid crush.

"You should be braver," Gabriel told him, gathering all his first aid supplies and putting them away. "You might accidentally have fun."

He fell silent as Gabriel stood, and replaced his stuff upon the table on the opposite side of the room.

"Angels in my universe," Sam began, voice soft, "we mate for life. Not every angel has a mate, but some of us, we _feel_ it, in a sense. We feel the existence of our mates, and a drive to find them, or we shall never be whole. Any minor attraction or 'fun' I might feel seems so small in the face of such a desire."

Gabriel frowned, and glanced back over his shoulder. The angel seemed haunted, his eyes distant on the ceiling.

"I've had this sense, this feeling of my mate. Somewhere, in the enormity of my own universe, just beyond my reach. But if I never make it home, I shall never find them."

Ah. So, Gabriel stood there, mulling over a ridiculous crush, while Sam ached for a soulmate a million universes away, one he could feel in his skin, and might never even meet. Damn. He set the last of his supplies on the table, and moved back over to the bed, his hand resting on Sam's shoulder.

"I have felt them since I became old enough to understand," Sam murmured, and only then did his eyes flit to Gabriel's. "But no matter where I looked, I could not find them. And if I do not make it home—."

"Hey, you're going to make it home," Gabriel interrupted. "I promise you. I'm going to figure out how to make your Grace work the way it should, and when we send you on your way—and I swear to you, I'll figure it out before it's impossible—you're going to go home. And you're going to find your mate." Gabriel nodded, and felt his eyes sting, because he really meant it. "Hell if I'm going to let your story end so awful. You're going home, kiddo. I will figure it out myself and send you there if I can."

Sam stared back at him, quiet, eyes wide in astonishment, his melancholy temporarily disbursed.

"I still do not understand why you continue to aid me, especially knowing what tragedy archangels have wrought upon you and your world."

"Yeah, but you're _not them_ ," Gabriel told him, his fingers squeezing his shoulder with care. "You're innocent. Yeah, I was an ass at first and plenty scared of you, but even I can see that now. You're not them. And you've had a rough break, and if I can help, I'm gonna do it."

Sam said nothing for a long time, and Gabriel couldn't help but focus on all the terrible symptoms he saw: the too-pale skin, the blotches of red and blue, the wheeze in his breath, the remnants of wounds and injuries.

"You are a good man, Gabriel Novak," he finally said, his head falling back against the pillow. "In many worlds, but in few more than this one."

Hearing Sam compliment him only made his stomach turn, and his eyes sting harder. Gabriel let go, and returned to his table to finish packing up the supplies.

"Yeah, well, you're only saying that because you haven't been around me long enough to know how bitter and mean I really am."

"I believe you are neither," Sam answered, quick and easy.

Jesus. Whomever this angel had for a mate, he or she better damn well be a fucking saint, because it would be hard to deserve him. Really, really hard. Gabriel certainly didn't.

"Yeah, well... just get some rest, okay? You need to rest up."

He slipped out of the room before he heard any reply.


	8. Chapter 8

As the weeks slowly ground on into months, summer passing into autumn, Gabriel realized he had severely underestimated Sati's interest in Sam. That was really saying something, since he'd known she'd been damn near obsessed since he'd taken up residence in their spare room.

He caught her in there more often than not, and it got to the point where she brought her homework in and did it quietly on the floor while Sam watched. Well. Angels were like that, he guessed, no matter what the universe. Observant things.

Sam didn't mind at all, and even seemed to enjoy her company, which surprised Gabriel even more. As time passed, they talked more, and Gabriel felt more than pleased that Sam seemed to know exactly how to handle a child. She talked a lot to him, and he talked with her, too, and Gabriel never once heard the slightest hint of irritation in his voice. He treated her like a treasure, as though Sati were the most interesting little girl in the world... and maybe to him she was. Gabriel had asked him a few times if Sati bothered him too much, and he quickly insisted he enjoyed her company.

It did nothing to help his stupid attraction for the oversized angel. Seeing the handsome, kind angel also act gentle and awesome with his kid made it so much worse. He'd become the epitome of everything Gabriel had wanted in a boyfriend, and the entire reason he'd given up on dating ages ago. He thought he'd never find it. What a tall order to fill, eh?

Well, the order was indeed tall, and sort of angelic. And still as fucking impossible as ever.

For his part, Sam had gotten better... sorta. He remained sick and pale and weak in a way Gabriel could only attribute to the ragged state of his Grace, but everything else healed. Slowly.

Gabriel had to remove the makeshift splint off his leg at one point and replace it. Everything kept swelling. Blaming the angel's Grace for his continued poor state was, at best, an educated guess, but Gabriel had little else to explain it away. If Sam were human he'd already be doing much better, and he'd maybe have been up and walking with crutches or something. But angelface still remained bed bound.

Sometimes, Gabriel hovered just past the doorway, listening to Sati talk to Sam. Snooping? Yes, just a little bit, but hey, who could blame him for checking up on the well-being of his child?

"I got an A on my history test today!" she bragged to him.

"That's wonderful, Sati," he answered, and sounded as pleased as she did. "Perhaps I shall have need to consult you on the history of this world at some point."

They had many such conversations, bright and warm and happy for Sati, and he hoped happy for Sam, too.

Another time, though, Gabriel nearly intervened. Sati had been chatting about space, talking of her favorite planets and stars when she fell silent.

"What is the matter?" Sam had asked her.

"Sam, you're going to leave us soon, aren't you?" Her voice had gone soft and small.

"Not any time soon, little one. I am too unwell to go."

"I know you're not going right now, but when you're better, you're going to leave us, aren't you?"

Gabriel's heart lurched in his chest, and he kind of sympathized with Sati. He felt the same way.

Sam didn't answer her right away, but after a long sigh, Gabriel heard his voice turn soft. "Yes, Sati. One day, when my wing heals enough, I must continue on my way. My home may be very far from here."

The sound of her shoe scraping the floor made Gabriel cringe.

"But, this could be your home, too."

Gabriel heard him exhale. "Yes. I've not stayed in one world this long before."

She didn't answer him for a minute. "Don't you like us?"

"Oh, little one, that is not it at all. Come here."

Gabriel listened as she got to her feet, and heard the crunch of bedsprings. Had she gotten up on the bed? Was Sam hugging her?

"Listen now," Sam's voice continued, softer and infinitely more gentle. "I like you very much, Sati. I have never met another like you, ever."

Her voice turned moist and tearful. "But you're gonna leave and forget me..."

"No," Sam told her. "Never. I could never forget you."

She sniffed. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"But why do you have to leave?"

Sam didn't answer her right away. "I left people behind," Sam told her. "Family and friends, people I have tried so hard to return to. Just as you wouldn't want to leave your father or uncle, I do not want to leave those I knew behind, either."

"But if you landed somewhere and you were really happy don't you think they'd understand?" she asked, the words slurring together to form one long, mumbled chain of words.

Gabriel decided intervention had become necessary at that point, but Sam spoke before he could burst into the room.

"Of course they would, Sati," he murmured. "But I must also go get help for you and your world."

"From where?" she whined.

"There exist people, just like you, not far from here, and they specialize in helping other worlds. I will take them parts of a blighted plant, you see, and they can study it and find a cure."

She sniffled again. Softer. "And they'd help?"

"Of course," Sam told her. "I know them."

Gabriel halted, his mind wandering back to the realm jumpers Sam had talked about. He had to admit, the idea of Sam going to raise the alarm and get help appealed greatly. And he wouldn't mind, you know, seeing such a place one day. If relativity wasn't such a bitch, he might have asked Sam about the possibility of taking them along. But with his busted up wing, they'd go nowhere.

And all at once, it occurred to Gabriel: Sam might be able to take someone as small and light as Sati.

His heart nearly stopped in his chest, and he swallowed thickly. But with relativity stacked against them so hard, he would probably never see her again if Sam did leave with her. And if he did, months might pass for him, but decades for Sati...

...But she would get to experience _decades_ , something she wouldn't get to do here. She would _live_ , and breathe clean air, and have limitless opportunities open to her. Here, on their dying Earth, at some point in the not-so-distant future, she would either starve or suffocate or eventually the dust would embed itself deep in her lungs and she'd die too young.

Sam would take care of her and watch over her, wouldn't he? Gabriel had little doubt.

She sniffled again, and Gabriel remembered he probably needed to go in and extract her from Sam.

"Are you sure they'd help you?" she asked again, sniffling even more.

"Oh yes," he answered. "Absolutely."

"So that way, no one else will starve?" she asked.

It made Gabriel's heart hurt to think his seven-year-old had such nightmares.

"Indeed. And I cannot entrust just anyone to return here with the cure. I would come back myself."

Gabriel thought his own excitement might rival Sati's. Hell, he had it bad.

"So, we'd get to see you again!" she chirped, all hints of her tears gone.

"Yes," he told her. "I promise."

Gabriel decided _he_ couldn't take much more of the conversation, and strolled inside. Sati indeed sat perched on the edge of the bed, hugging Sam, and had chosen that exact moment to plant a kiss on his cheek. Sam blinked, momentarily stunned, then his eyes flitted in Gabriel's direction and his face drained of color, as if he'd done something wrong.

"Sati," Gabriel chided, "I seem to specifically remember telling you to stay off of him. He's hurt."

She untangled herself from his arms, and moved back to her feet. "Sorry..."

"No," Sam broke in. "It is my fault. I instructed her to approach me, and I offered her a hug. Forgive me. I am at fault, not her."

Gabriel knew that, of course, but he didn't want to give away that he'd been eavesdropping.

"Well," he answered, a bit flustered, "so long as you feel up to it." He turned to Sati. "And you. It's close to your bedtime."

"Can't I stay up a while longer?"

Gabriel gave her a fierce stare, and she just sighed.

"All right," she complained, and began to trudge out of the room. "Good night, Sam."

"Good night, Sati."

"Hey," Gabriel called to her, and knelt down beside her, his hands light on her arms. "Go wash up, and give Uncle Cas a kiss before bed, okay?"

"Okay," she answered, and hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek, and tried not to hug her too tight.

After a moment, she giggled and squirmed in his arms. "Daaad!"

He smiled, and let her go, and she made her way from the room. He stood to his full height, and stared down at Sam, who watched him with a curious expression.

"You're good with her," Gabriel commented, and tried not to make it sound like a compliment. "She, uh... she needs that."

"She is a treasure," Sam answered, voice soft. "I have never been one to become attached to children, but she is endearing, and has a kind heart."

Gabriel's lips warmed, and he remembered he had a reason for coming up here. A few reasons, actually, which had nothing to do with Sati at all.

"So, anyway, uh. There's been some bandits in the area," Gabriel told him. "Breaking into houses and taking things, threatening people... Since Cas and I are usually out in the fields most of the day, and you're here by yourself, you're kind of defenseless."

"I am stronger than I look," Sam answered, but given his pale complexion, Gabriel kind of doubted it.

"Maybe so, but... well. Here." Gabriel pulled out Sam's archangel blade, and set it on the small stand next to his bed.

Sam seemed quite surprised, and reached out for it, tentative and slow. His fingers closed around it, and he Gabriel could see relief etched across his brow.

"You trust me with this?" he asked.

"I think if you wanted us dead, you could have found more creative ways to do it by now," Gabriel answered. "I know you're hurt, but you're still an archangel. You guys can be terrifying."

Sam scoffed, and set the blade back down. "Oh yes. I imagine I am the _image_ of terror at the moment."

Gabriel motioned to the blade, and tried not to pay attention to the self-reproachful tone. "I'd put that blade up where you angels keep them stashed, or whatever. I used to get on Cas about weapons in random places. Don't make me lecture you on where you put your angel blade."

It occurred to him an instant after he said it that sounded vaguely dirty, but he just sighed. It was probably lost on the angel, anyway.

Sam stared at it with some apparent distress. "I cannot."

Gabriel tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Look, if this is about me trusting you, you're over that particular hump—."

"No," Sam stressed, and finally met his eyes. "I cannot 'stash it away', as you said."

The archangel had an air of distress in his voice, and it worried Gabriel more than anything. "Why not?"

Sam looked away, his eyes vaguely guilty as they trailed the floor, and he said nothing.

"Sam," Gabriel pushed. "If we're going to help you, kiddo, you've got to 'fess up. What's going on?"

The archangel sighed, but still did not meet his eyes.

"The state of my Grace has deteriorated," he finally said, quick and short and moderately annoyed.

It didn't surprise Gabriel so much. "And here I thought you were just violently sick from it," he groused, sarcastic, and moved closer. "What's going on?"

"Nothing unusual for me," he said. "I feel ill, but it has not passed as it normally does."

Gabriel sighed, and stared at him. Waiting. He knew Sam had more to add to the explanation.

The angel gave him a furtive glance, his eyes making contact for an instant. "And my wing, it... I think it has deteriorated."

"Why?"

"It hurts," he said, and Gabriel kind of doubted some mild ache had the angel's attention. "And without it, I cannot leave."

Gabriel considered it a moment, and pointed with his hand. "Roll over. Bring out the wing."

Sam lips parted, his eyes full of hesitation, but Gabriel crossed his arms and tried to pull out his best intimidating stare. It was kind of hard to do to an archangel, but hell, he never backed away from a challenge.

" _Now_ ," Gabriel pushed. "Unless you want it to shrivel up and fall off back there. I'm not trying to manhandle you, Sam. I want to help. And if it hurts enough you're giving me _that_ kind of a look, you need help with it."

The hesitant expression didn't fade, but he seemed more compliant. He maneuvered himself over onto his belly, and Gabriel helped him with his casts. Sam struggled to pull his shirt off with his one working arm. Gabriel moved to help him, and finally he saw bare skin in front of him.

"Come on," Gabriel told him. "Bring it out."

Sam made a noise not unlike a grumble, and it would have been cute if Gabriel hadn't been distracted by the sight of his wing a moment later.

Or at least, he thought it might of been a wing once. Maybe.

Utterly devoid of feathers, the longest arch of it—and some of the tip had to be missing—the muscle and bone which stabilized the entire thing had to be swollen to twice its normal size. It looked awful, as though the limb oozed with infection from the inside-out.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed, moving closer to examine it. Not bleeding or bloody, but red and so overheated that Gabriel hovered his hand an inch away and felt the heat emanating from the skin.

He shut his eyes, and remembered he'd wanted to tone down the blasphemy in Sam's presence. "Sorry, sorry. Just... damn. Why haven't you said anything?"

Sam didn't answer, but just laid there, tired and worn out and dejected.

"Talk to me, Sam," he urged. "I'm not an angel doctor. I can't just look at it and know what's wrong." He frowned. "Is it because of your deteriorating Grace?"

"It is," Sam answered. "It seems my wing's continued integrity may become dependent upon your experiments."

That made him swallow, a lump forming in his throat as he considered it. "What if we remove your Grace until I can figure out an answer?"

"My wing will burn to ashes," Sam told him. "And in my present state, I might die."

Well. That wasn't good. "Okay. Let's not do that," Gabriel answered.

"If I do not improve soon," Sam said, voice defeated, "you may have no choice. I must go and fetch help for this world."

"But without your wing—."

"I created a road to this world when I fell here," he interrupted. "If I regain enough power, I may be able to burst through the barrier through sheer force and continue my passage. More importantly, I can return here with a cure to the blight."

Gabriel frowned as he stared down at the wing, all swollen and red and angry. The whole wing must have been massive. He remembered the other wing, getting a glimpse of its size before it completely disintegrated into ash and dust. Bit who knew the true size of his wingspan? God built archangels to impress and terrify, after all.

But Gabriel just didn't know what to do. He'd been studying his Grace, sure, and he though he had some idea of what might help. But it was a far cry from being able to truly understand how to get results. He could make it do things under a microscope, but that didn't give him any idea how to fix it while still in Sam's vessel. Body. Whatever.

"I must regain enough strength to leave," Sam repeated, like a mantra. "I must go get help before it is too late and no one can come or go to save you at all."

His voice felt heavy with urgency, and it moved Gabriel to hear it. Sure, he figured part of it was Sam didn't want to get stranded there himself. And he didn't blame him. Their world was just a quieter version of Hell—minus the brimstone—but still Hell, nonetheless. But he didn't doubt the angel's desire to go get help.

"Okay. Okay," Gabriel breathed, unsure of what to say. "Just... okay. Let's think about this a second." He sank down into the chair next to his bed, and stared at the wing as though the power of his gaze might fix it.

Sam turned his head to the side, staring at him.

"Okay," he breathed again. Think about this rationally. He'd done that before in tight spots and emergencies. He needed his analytical side now, not the part of him freaking out over seeing a friend in agony.

"Okay. What is it about your Grace that's making it do... that?"

"I am not entirely sure," Sam answered.

Of course. Just fucking perfect.

"Okay. If you were home, then would you have any ideas?"

Sam made a noise, somewhere between annoyance and frustration. He glanced away, his brow furrowing. "Perhaps an infection of some sort?"

"Grace can get infected?"

"Through a powerful curse," he said. "But I've never seen a curse which could touch anything higher than a cupid."

Gabriel blinked. "A... what?"

"A low-ranking angel with limited, highly specific powers. I… it doesn't matter. This is no curse." He turned his face into the pillow.

Gabriel crossed his arms, staring intently at the wing. _Think_ , he told himself. _Think_.

"What does it feel like?"

"It feels as though my wing is alight with holy fire, and might spread to my torso and light up the inside of my vessel with flame. It feels as though acid burns through my very veins."

"Jesus," Gabriel breathed, and this time he didn't bother to apologize for the casual blasphemy. He'd do that later. "Okay. Fuck. Do you have _any_ idea, no matter how ridiculous or vague or impossible sounding, on what could fix it?"

When Sam turned his head back towards Gabriel, his face had turned red, streaked with tears. God, it must hurt a lot.

"None at all," he murmured, eyes shining. "Perhaps returning home, and ridding myself of all my Grace." He paused. "Or cleaving the wing from my back."

Gabriel's face twitched as he examined the wing. It sort of looked like it might shrivel up and fall off all on its own if something dramatic didn't change. He had to figure something out, and fast.

"Well, I was going to set you up with some crutches and see if you had the strength to hobble down to my lab, but it seems like a bad idea, now."

"Could I provide assistance?" he asked.

"You could probably speed up the process," Gabriel told him. "But I don't know for sure."

"Then I will go," he said, and began a complicated attempt to sit up.

"Nope," Gabriel said, and planted a hand on his shoulder. He easily pushed him back into the mattress. "The only place you're going is back to sleep."

"But—."

"Rest is your friend," Gabriel told him. "Sleep is your _best_ friend. Sleep as much as you can. Rest and taking care of yourself will hold this thing off as long as possible. It'll give me time to work."

Sam made a face, somewhere between worry and pain, and laid his head back upon the pillow. The wing slowly vanished as he tucked it away to wherever wings went when humans couldn't see them. Sam sighed, the lines of his face easing.

"Does it hurt to take it out?" Gabriel asked.

"To manifest it? Yes."

Gabriel shook his head. "You didn't tell me that."

"I did not think it important."

"Don't do that," Gabriel hissed, his voice strained. "Don't assume _anything_ here is unimportant. Do you understand me? You tell me everything. If I'm gonna help you, you can't go and keep details from me. You might think it's not important, but it might mean something. Understand?"

Sam seemed stunned, staring back at him, but it faded into acceptance, tired but respectful. "Yes, of course."

Gabriel moved to pull the blankets back over him, tucking them around his shoulders. "I'm sorry you're having to deal with all this pain, kiddo. You seem like a good soul, and good souls don't deserve the horrible things you've gone through."

Sam's eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled sharply. "I have no soul. If I die, I shall evaporate into nothingness."

Gabriel leaned over, his voice soft and close to Sam's ear. "I'm not gonna let that happen. I promise."

The angel's eyes snapped open, and the two shared a long glance before Gabriel turned his head away. He patted Sam's shoulder gently, and reached over to extinguish the oil lamp.

"Get some rest."

Sam didn't argue.

* * *

Sam, as it turned out, was about as good at following directions as Sati. He spent two days resting, and the entire next day trying to familiarize himself with how the crutches worked. And the day after that attempting—and failing—to get down the stairs.

Gabriel had to herd him back to his bed, but the next evening Sam stood in their downstairs kitchen, balanced on his one good leg and propped up on the other side by a crutch.

"You know," Gabriel groused when he first noticed him (and just how the fuck did he get down the stairs so quietly?), "if you wanted to eat dinner with us we would have come up to you."

Sati swiveled in her seat, staring at him over the back of her chair, her fingers hooked around the top of the wood. She bounced on her knees, as though the sight of Sam was the most exciting thing _ever_. "Are you hungry, Sam? I have some soup left over!"

Gabriel snorted. Leave it to Sati. Always leave it to Sati. Their own living ray of sunshine.

"Thank you, Sati. You are most kind to offer," he told her, "but I am not hungry. You should keep your soup for yourself."

"But what're you doing down here?" she asked.

"Sam is following me down to the lab," Gabriel answered for him, taking a long gulp of beer. "We have some work to do."

"Can I help?" she asked, turning towards him.

Her eyes shone with so much excitement Gabriel hated sending her away. "Not this time. But I'm sure we can find something for you to do in the future."

"Why don't you help me with research, Sati?" Cas chimed in, his attention focused on the stove. "I'm searching through old photographs a friend sent me from Europe. We might find something to assist with Sam's Grace."

"What are we looking for?" she asked, entranced, following him from the room.

Gabriel motioned towards Sam. The angel made his way, one unsteady step at a time, down the basement stairway.

"Whatever you do, don't fall," Gabriel told him, shutting the door behind them. "Cas 'n I barely got you up the stairs the first time."

"I've no intention," he huffed, and sank down into a chair of the at the edge of Gabriel's lab table. Winded. "...Of falling," he finished.

Gabriel gave him a _look_ , and shook his head. "Jesus, Sam. I know you're feeling cooped up, but you're going to kill yourself in a hurry if you keep hobbling around like this."

Sam said nothing, but his face tightened, eyes narrow. A touch of indignance.

"You're not immortal," Gabriel told him. "You can totally die. I know, I've seen archangels croak before. And believe it or not, despite having you all chained up when we first brought you in here, we'd rather you not die on us."

Sam maintained his bitchface for a moment, then the lines of his eyes softened into exhaustion. Calmer but not necessarily better. Like defeat.

"I appreciate that," he said. "I wish to help however I can."


	9. Chapter 9

Gabriel gave him a critical stare, but relented. He'd already lumbered down here, and he'd have to rest up before hoping to brave the stairs once more, so why not?

"Mostly you could look at some things for me, and answer a few questions."

"All right," he responded, eager.

"You might get kind of bored, though," Gabriel told him. "I don't talk a lot when I'm studying stuff."

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He chattered to himself a lot, but he figured the archangel wouldn't know the difference.

"I will remain silent," he said, his voice picking up a hint of energy.

Gabriel stalked to his storage cabinet, cringing as the latch scraped, the scratch of unpainted metal on metal. "Not _too_ quiet, I hope. Like I said, I have a few questions for you."

Sam watched, his gaze curious but intent, as Gabriel set up his microscope and other tools on the table. In lieu of having anyone else to talk to when he did things like this, he often chattered to himself. But with Sam sitting at the table's end, he found himself half-narrating his actions.

"I have a lot of rituals that may seem funny," Gabriel explained, "but I do them because you can't exactly find lab equipment anymore. I mean, if I break a watch glass, I'm out a watch glass. If I break a beaker, I'm out a is hard to come by."

"Understandable," Sam replied, but his eyes didn't meet Gabriel's. They followed the movements of his hands as he cradled old, fragile equipment.

He stiffened when Gabriel set a tiny vial in the watch glass. The corked bottle had a tiny speck of white, sputtering Grace in it.

"I managed to get it out of some blood on one of the sheets we had to throw out," he said. "I, uh... I know to you this is like a body part to you. I'm not trying to be callous with it."

"No, it is fine," Sam answered, staring at it. "I've simply never seen my Grace contained in a bottle before." He frowned. "I did not truly realize it could be."

"Ah, well, the angels here didn't know, either. But we were able to capture specks of it from their dead brothers way back during the Apocalypse."

Gabriel set down a scraper, and a soft cloth for the lenses of his microscope. As he had done many times before, he polished first the lenses, then the vial on the table.

"When Grace sits loose like this, it decays fast," he explained. "The fundamentals of loose Grace in _this_ universe seem to center around anti-beta particles, so we cooked up some glassware back in the Air Force with thorium-229 in the mix, and the alpha particles kept it at bay without reacting with the antiparticles. I had a few bottles in storage after I moved here, and I dug them out when you showed up."

Sam nodded, slowly. "Thorium-229 emits alpha particles."

"Yep," Gabriel told him. "Alpha particles also reduce the mystical vortex of your Grace into its constituent parts. Lets me see all the different universes buzzing around in there. So long as it's in the bottle, the decay rate of your Grace is slow... but not forever. I mean, in a few months, half of it will be gone." He frowned. "Some has already evaporated away, but you'll be able to see what we're dealing with, here."

The watch glass and vial chinked against one another as Gabriel adjusted the position of the vial. He turned the magnification on his microscope up to maximum. The eyepiece revealed a blurry image, but a careful twist of the knob brought it into focus.

"Now," Gabriel murmured, staring through the eyepiece. "You can see what it looks like."

Sam stared at him a moment before realizing Gabriel had just issued a summons of sorts, and rolled his chair over to the microscope with his good leg. The angel sat much taller than Gabriel by far, and didn't have to stand to gaze down through the eyepiece. He also apparently knew how to use it, reaching up to adjust the focus until his undoubtedly better eyes could observe the image.

" _That_ is my Grace?" he breathed, an air of astonishment.

"Yup," Gabriel answered, staring at him as he examined it. "And trust me, I know it is _not_ supposed to look like that. It should be one color. It shouldn't look like Star Wars under there."

Sam's adjusted his position, blinking before lowering his eyes back to the eyepiece. "Which is which?"

"The white pieces belong to this universe," Gabriel told him. "Apparently you've soaked some up since you've been here. I think the bright blue pieces belong to your universe."

Sam's made the slightest of faces. "Incorrect." He lifted his eyes from the microscope, catching Gabriel's gaze. "Violet."

That hadn't been quite the answer Gabriel had expected. "Violet? Really? _Not_ blue?"

Sam shook his head. "In my world, Grace emits on the ultraviolet spectrum. Human eyes decipher the lower ranges as bright, violet light."

Gabriel frowned. Violet. Had he even seen any violet Grace in there?

"I can discern some of this," Sam continued, glancing back through the eyepiece. "But I see none I recognize as my own." He pulled away, and frowned. "But I do understand why you mistook the blue for my own."

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, and Sam seemed to take it as a cue to continue.

"I received it from the realm jumpers during a visit to one of their stations," he said. "They have created a type of synthetic Grace for travelers such as myself."

"So, not your own, but stable enough not to kill you?" he ventured.

"It isn't precisely comfortable," Sam answered, "but tolerable."

Gabriel considered tolerable a considerable step up from dead, and if it were all he could isolate, he'd take it.

"You don't see any violet in there?" Gabriel asked him.

Sam shook his head. "Perhaps since you scavenged it from my blood..."

"Yeah, well, unless I want to start cutting pieces out of you with your own blade, I don't think I'm gonna get anything more fresh."

Sam held his stare for a long moment, and his brow furrowed in thought. Gabriel didn't expect Sam's very next move would be to pull his blade from behind his back and set it upon the table.

Gabriel just stared at it a moment, wary and suspicious and all kinds of creeped out at the idea of having to, as he'd put it seconds earlier, possibly cut pieces out of Sam.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"I'm trying to _fix_ you, damn it!" Gabriel hissed. "Not make new wounds for you to heal!"

"Just take a tiny portion," Sam said, and it sounded like a plea. "Please. You are my only hope if I do not wish to drain it all from my vessel."

Gabriel frowned, something like a whine sounding in his throat. "But I don't know how. I don't want to _kill_ you."

"I will not die," Sam told him. "You may make a miniscule incision and extract but a tiny portion. I shall instruct you on the proper method."

Considering they'd been so damn worried about his Grace all this time, he wondered why Sam hadn't volunteered this before. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"You must take my blade and pierce the hollow of my neck."

 _Holy shit_. Yeah, okay, of course he wouldn't have volunteered this information before.

"That sounds _lethal_ , Sam..."

"If you intended to create an incision to extract it all, then perhaps. But you need only make a small pinprick. With my permission, the Grace will flow to you. Or, rather, a container of yours." He paused. "And I shall heal the wound myself."

Gabriel frowned at him, but the angel only stared back with complete trust.

"Just to be clear," he said, "you want to trust me to take the one weapon that can kill you for sure, and slice into your neck with it?"

"Yes."

He searched for a trace of irony, hesitation, of anything other than a dumb, puppy-eyed look of unshakable trust. But he found nothing else. Only trust.

Gabriel huffed, and stalked over to his cabinet to obtain another vial. "When I'm the one you're trusting _that_ much, you know you're really in a bad spot, kiddo."

He tugged on a tiny label, the adhesive gum cold against his fingertip. Applying it to the vial, he used a felt-tip marker to label it with the time and date.

"Why would you say such a terrible thing about yourself?" Sam asked, voice soft and quiet and one-hundred percent genuine. "I trust you. You are a good man."

Gabriel snorted as he uncorked the vial, his back still turned to Sam.

"Do not laugh," Sam's voice came again, stern but still soft. "I know wicked men and their ilk. _You_ are a good man."

"I'm a man who tends to fuck things up," he corrected, and tossed the marker back into the cabinet. He plopped down in his seat and rolled up beside Sam, gripping the archangel blade in his free hand. "You shouldn't trust me. I'm an fool who plays at knowing what he's doing."

Sam stared at him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing, and it occurred to Gabriel he might've made the angel mad.

"What?" he asked. "What'd I do?"

"You speak so ill of yourself," he huffed. "You truly cannot see what is plain to all around you." He turned his head aside, and sighed. "I would ask you to reconsider your self-derogatory comments. They have no merit."

He turned his gaze back on Gabriel, his eyes full of intent and purpose and things Gabriel didn't care to think of. Sam tipped his head back and exposed his entire goddamn throat, trusting an angel-hating ex-military man not to bleed him dry of everything.

Gabriel's breath caught in his throat. "Jesus. I hope you don't trust everyone like this."

"Never before," Sam admitted.

Gabriel knew—or _hoped_ —the angel had just lied. Otherwise, he'd known a sorry lot of people in his life.

Sam would probably answer any question Gabriel threw at him. But this had become too painful, somehow, as if the angel's sincerity somehow scratched Gabriel's old, hidden wounds raw. So he tried to ignore the idiot angel's display of trust and what it might mean.

Obviously, Sam trusted him. It meant nothing else, even if no one had trusted him that much in ages.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh..."

Sam lifted a finger to his throat, pressing just below his Adam's Apple. "To extract it all, you would make a half-inch incision here. But for now, just press the edge of the blade into my throat."

"I've seen angels die from a blade through the throat," he rasped, and found his hands sweaty and his heart racing.

"Indeed. You would kill me if you pushed the blade deeper, but if Grace is your goal, you need to press a quarter inch inside _only_."

Gabriel swallowed, his throat thick. "That'll pierce your windpipe."

"Within seconds, I will close up the worst of the damage."

"Yeah, but it's still gonna hurt like hell," Gabriel muttered, his lips pinched in a frown.

He leaned forward, and pressed the very tip of the weapon against the precise place Sam had indicated. The tiny contact between blade and skin made an indentation. The tiniest amount of further pressure would break through.

Sam said nothing. Okay. Well then.

"All right. Here we go. Jesus, just... just hold still. I don't want to hurt you."

He watched Sam's hand creep forward, tentative, coming to rest on Gabriel's leg. A gesture of comfort when Gabriel intended to stab _him_? Ha.

Gabriel pressed with the lightest pressure he could, and the blade slipped inside a fraction, splaying skin and tissue as though the angel had no more substance than soft butter. A trickle of blood meandered down his neck, and Gabriel could feel a stuttered breath vibrating against the edge of the blade.

"Jesus. I'm sorry," he breathed, feeling Sam's hand tense around his leg. He estimated he'd made it to the quarter-inch mark, and even if he hadn't he didn't dare push farther. Instead, he slid the blade back out, and watched Sam tremble as the wound glowed bright and _violet_. The embodiment of Sam's True Self, lurking beneath his skin.

He held up the tiny vial, and watched as a trickle of violet-white light streamed out, filling half the tiny tube before the flow ceased. Immediately he corked it, moved to set it down on a stand before it rolled away and broke, and returned to Sam, who had clasped a hand over his bleeding neck.

"Sam? Sam!"

"I am well," he rasped, his back hunched over and half-leaning on the lab table.

Gabriel realized belatedly his own hands had flown up to the angel's wound. "Hey, let me see..."

The angel pulled his own hands away, and revealed the tiny wound had indeed closed. Only a smear of blood remained. The angel stared at him a long moment, face unreadable, before turning his gaze to the floor.

His archangel blade. Gabriel glanced down, too, and only then realized he'd tossed it in his hurry to see to Sam's wound. Oops.

Gabriel stooped down to swipe it, and wiped the excess blood on a nearby rag before handing it back to Sam. The archangel took it by the hilt, and smiled at Gabriel.

"See? I am no fool to trust you. You had me in a position more vulnerable than anyone before you, and yet you did not strike me down."

Gabriel didn't know what to say. The angel didn't know about his stupid little schoolgirl crush, and saying things like that just made it worse. Much worse.

Instead, he turned away and rolled back to the test tube stand, collecting the vial and positioning it under the microscope.

"Sorry," he blathered, dismissing the nonsense in his head, "I have to hurry before any of this evaporates away. You suffered through it, so I should make the most of it."

"Of course," Sam answered, easy and kind, just like Gabriel hadn't had his own blade sticking into his neck a moment earlier.

He adjusted the microscope with practiced ease, and pressed his face close. The eyepiece displayed a mess more awful than the second-hand Grace had even hinted at. Chaotic wisps of Grace vibrated from beyond his range of vision, their presence known only by their effect on other, visible strands of Grace. The white hue of Gabriel's universe's Grace had settled in with gusto, filling in all the gaps where the pre-existing stuff couldn't cut it anymore. If Sam stayed here much longer maybe it would fill in more, and he'd have some relief.

He strained to find the bright violet color he'd seen lurking in Sam's wound. It belonged to Sam's own universe, and by extension, to his True Self. Without it, the angel had voiced he might die. So Gabriel strained and strained, but for the life of him, he couldn't find it.

What seemed like hours later, when his vision had filled with spots from the mess of vibrating color under his eyes, he thought he spied a single little wisp of bright violet, slowly moving about in the corner.

"Come here," he waved at Sam without glancing away. He heard the squeak of the angel's chair as it rolled across the floor. "Look. Top left corner."

Sam approached, readjusted the eyepiece, and stared down.

"This is mine," he confirmed.

Gabriel could have wept in relief. It meandered in a slow path, too, which meant it would last longer than the other chaotic stuff in the vial. Maybe it would last longer inside his body, too.

"But it is all of mine I see," he continued, and gave Gabriel a worried glance.

"Hey," he cut him off, shaking his head. "At least there's some there."

"But—."

"No, listen," Gabriel interrupted. "Think of it like a seed. You can grow a giant oak tree from the right seed. You just have to protect the seed."

Sam seemed conflicted, and more than a little worried, but he made a visible effort to calm himself.

"A seed," he repeated, voice soft and uncertain.

"When you get home," Gabriel told him, "you can build your whole gigantic archangel self up again from that seed. Just keep it safe. Use up the other stuff."

"The 'other stuff' no longer responds to my commands." Sam reminded him.

"What about this universe's Grace?" Gabriel told him. "That's all the white stuff in there. It's really moving in."

"I've remained here quite some time," he responded. "When suffering from a deficit of Grace, I soak it up anywhere I go, whether it eventually harms me or not."

"Well, as long as you're right here, it's not harmful, right?"

Sam hesitated, his brow furrowed as if considering it. "True..."

"Then use it," Gabriel told him. "I mean, I know Grace has limited power _here_ , but it can still be used. You can command it, right?"

"I'm not certain how to differentiate within my own Grace in such a manner," he admitted, and seemed so small and tired sitting there.

"Then _learn_ ," Gabriel told him. "Adapt. Do what you gotta to heal yourself."

Sam frowned, and his head drooped, the exhaustion of unknowable sorrows etched on his brow.

Gabriel had seen the exact expression on more than one face before, and he hopped to his feet, frustration rushing hot through his veins. "Don't you fucking sit there and think it's all hopeless," he hissed. "Don't you do it."

The angel lifted his head just enough to meet Gabriel's eyes, but he said nothing.

"Saving you means our entire world might survive," Gabriel filled in, desperate for something to say other than 'please don't die, I would miss you a lot'. "And you told Sati you'd go for help."

Sam sighed, and his head drooped again. "I intend to try, but..."

"No fucking 'buts'!" Gabriel interrupted. He stared down at Sam, hunched over the table and sweaty, neck still smeared with dried blood, and chest heaving.

He sat and grabbed a clean shop towel and water from the stand. "Here, turn towards me."

Sam complied, sitting up and swiveling to face him. His skin remained pale and blotched, his eyes wet. Gabriel exhaled, and began to gently wash away the blood from his neck.

"I know you're exhausted—."

"You have _no idea_ ," Sam hissed.

The tone of his voice made Gabriel flinch away. Sam remained frozen in place, his neck still exposed, tears spilling from his eyes.

"Do you know what nearly three-hundred years of fruitless, exhausting travel _feels like_?" he growled, but yet his voice held no cruel bite. Only frustration. Fatigue. "Do you know the terrors I've endured? The agonies I've witnessed and had no power to change? You cannot imagine what such weariness does to someone."

Gabriel's breath caught, and a silence stretched between them.

"No, you're right. I have no idea," he admitted, and his own eyes stung with unshed tears. "I can't even imagine. I'm mortal, and I live on a dying world." He couldn't stop hot, frustrated tears from sliding down his own cheeks. "I won't live nearly as long as you've been stuck in the hell you're in."

Sam's expression softened at the sight of Gabriel's tears, contorting into something more despairing.

Gabriel wheeled back to him and continued wiping at the blood, keeping his hands as gentle as he knew how.

"I can't even imagine being alive for two-hundred and seventy-four years," he said, quoting Sam's exact figure from when they'd first had _that_ conversation. "And three or four months."

The angel swallowed underneath his hands, thick and slow and full, and he watched Gabriel with an unblinking stare.

"I know it's not fair," Gabriel told him. "Fuck, it's even worse because you're _nice_. I don't know how you've managed to avoid getting bitter and hateful as fuck. Two decades of shitty luck here did that to me, and you've been through worse."

"Gabriel..." he murmured, voice wheezing.

"But you can't give up," Gabriel told him, and his own voice betrayed him. "Listen, I've wanted to give up plenty of times. And somehow, I managed to rest and shelve some problems until I found a way to deal with them. And that's what you've got to do."

"I do not know how," the angel sobbed, leaning forward and crumpling over.

Gabriel caught him, and wrapped his arms around the weeping angel. Sam buried his face against his shoulder, and leaned heavily upon him. Gabriel might have stumbled if he hadn't been sitting down.

"No one ever does," Gabriel told him. "But you will go home. You _will_. You're gonna go home and see your friends, and find that mate of yours, and you're gonna be happy like you fucking deserve."

Sam trembled against his shoulder, and Gabriel didn't know what else to say, so he just held him.

"Don't give up," he murmured. "Just rest a while. But don't give up. Just rest until you figure it out..."

They stayed that way a long time, until the angel's sobs stilled. Gabriel kind of figured this outburst had been a long time coming, even longer than Sam had been there. Who knew what kind of repressed crap the angel hauled around? At least Gabriel could give him a shoulder to cry on. Tears weren't a sign of weakness. So Gabriel just sat there and held him, determined to hold Sam as long as he wanted to be held.

After a long time, Sam pulled away, slow and careful, and Gabriel helped him sit up.

"Take it easy," he murmured. "Easy..."

The angel's face had turned red and all sorts of messy, and Gabriel took a clean portion of the cloth and dabbed at the moisture on his skin. He'd seen breakdowns like this before. Sam needed gentleness, not smugness or any facet of Gabriel's usual smarmy self. New tears flowed down Sam's cheeks to replace the old ones, but Gabriel just dried those, too.

Slowly, the angel's tears subsided, and he sat there, exhausted and defeated.

"Let me put my stuff away, and I'll help you back to bed," Gabriel told him.

He wished he could ignore it all and come back later, but he couldn't afford such carelessness. He had to do it now, lest something roll away and break. As he packed his equipment, he kept glancing over at Sam, whose distant gaze had settled upon the floor.

When Gabriel finished some minutes later, he moved to Sam's side, tugging the angel's good arm over his shoulder. With minimal effort, he pulled him to his feet. Sam followed easily. Blankly.

"Now, let's get you upstairs."

Gabriel guided him along, and Sam followed. Navigating wasn't so hard, though the stairs presented a different sort of difficulty. He knew the angel would rest well when he went to sleep. He hoped so, anyway.

It took more than a little time, but Gabriel managed to get Sam into bed.

"I'm going to tuck your archangel blade under the pillow, okay?" he asked, but Sam didn't respond.

Gabriel wouldn't have bothered with the blade at all, but he was still worried about those rumored thieves around town. Sam needed some sort of protection if they showed up.

As he tugged the covers around him, the angel's hand snaked out, closing around his wrist, and he met his eyes for the first time since Gabriel had led him from the basement lab.

"You said," Sam breathed, voice faint and raspy, "you were a bitter and hateful man. But no man so hateful would ever comfort another while they lose their senses."

Gabriel tried to smile, but inside, his stomach churned with guilt. "You just don't know me very well yet," he replied, and tried to make it sound like a joke. He reached out to brush a messy clump of hair from Sam's face.

"I am starting to feel I know you better than most," he answered, unblinking.

And that? That did funny things to Gabriel's heart, deep down where he'd sworn he'd never find himself in a position like this ever again.

"Get some sleep, Sam," he told him, voice soft. "We're gonna fix you up and get you home. It's okay if you don't believe it yet. If you trust me, then trust I'm not ever going to give up on it, okay?"

Sam's eyes searched his in the dim light. "I trust you," he breathed. "I can... I can trust in that."

All this did not help Gabriel in the slightest.

"Sweet dreams," he told him, giving the blankets a final tug. And he spun on his heels and left.

After he shut the door, he buried his face in his hands. He was so, so fucked.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd known it was only a matter of time before Cas noticed _something_. He hadn't been a hunter for nothing, and all the time he didn't spend talking he usually spent observing. He could pick up on a situation and go with the flow like no one Gabriel had ever met.

And while nine times of of ten, that skill made for amazing things, this time it just fucking annoyed him.

Drained after the emotional mess of the night, Gabriel couldn't sleep. Instead, he scrubbed his face clean, and got back to work. He studied Sam's Grace until he ran out of his tiny store of power in the basement, lit an oil lamp in the kitchen, and did some reading over his old papers on Grace. Thank god he'd had the good sense to print them all out back in the day, and even if they smelled musty as hell, they remained readable.

Again that strange, pre-dawn hour of gloaming crept across the sky, deep blue and so dark one could mistake it for black... but blue, nonetheless. Once upon a time, they'd called this time of day the blue hour. Ancient humans thought it mystical and full of confusion and strangeness, because they couldn't easily tell day from night after sunset, or night from morning before sunrise. And Gabriel supposed the old mysticism had some merit.

Not unlike the puzzle before him, he thought. Near-imperceptible things, shadowed in confusion and chaos. Grace all mysterious and uncertain, like the blue hour's unclear boundary between night and morning.

But he had to believe this chaos, even the chaos of a thousand universes combined, still followed a system. Sam's collected Grace didn't just evaporate away at random. A set of rules existed to explain and describe what he saw. Gabriel didn't know that system yet, but he would figure it out. He would.

When Cas descended the stairs to start on breakfast, Gabriel still hadn't gone to bed. His little brother always did like getting up freakishly early.

"Gabriel," he greeted, voice gruff from sleep.

"G'morning," he responded, not glancing up. His eyes hurt from the combined time spent wearing his reading glasses and squinting in the lamplight, but he otherwise felt fine. He'd regret staying up all night at some point, he knew, but not yet.

"Up early?" Cas asked.

"Up late. No sleep for me," Gabriel corrected, and kept reading.

He'd forgotten about several of his old experiments. Not unlike a student who never used math again after school, Gabriel had forgotten stuff that had little usefulness in the present. He flipped to the next page, reading up on a failed attempt to affect Grace with mechanical energy.

"Gabriel?"

He blinked, and realized he'd zoned out. "Sorry, Cas. Just got a little distracted by this." He forced himself to set the paper down before he embarrassed himself further. "Yeah?"

"What are you reading?" he asked, eyes squinting in the lamplight.

"Some of my old experiments on Grace," he answered. "Trying to figure out if I missed something."

"And you stayed up all night reading?"

"We looked at Sam's Grace last night, and holy shit, it's so much worse than I thought," Gabriel told him, by way of an answer. "I've got to figure something out, and quick, or our friendly neighborhood archangel might be toast."

Cas grunted in response, and turned his attention back to the stove. Maybe twenty minutes passed before he said anything; long enough the sky outside had brightened from black-blue to a dark, overcast gray-blue. He could just see the outline of the cornfield in the faint light, billowing around in the wind. Gabriel considered the implications of the wind speed being up this early in the day when Cas again spoke.

"Should I decline to meet Sam for our daily chess match?"

That made Gabriel blink, and he turned back to Cas. "Your... what?"

"I play a game of chess with Sam each day. You can learn much about someone by the way they play chess."

"I didn't know you two were doing that," Gabriel breathed.

"I do it while you're out in the back forty acres," Cas told him, setting a mug on the table. "You never return before we're done."

He stared up at his brother as he poured steaming hot liquid into the mug, and took a spoon and stirred up the corn flour. Gabriel still had trouble forming words when Cas took the mug by the handle and set it in front of him, along with a dish of pale, lumpy corn sugar.

He stared down at the yellow, grainy mess in the dish, and wished not for the first time sugarcane hadn't died out. He could go for some over-refined, over-processed white sugar right about now.

"And just what have you learned?"

"He is most unlike any angel I've ever met," Cas replied, setting a second mug on the table and filling it for himself. "If I thought otherwise, I would have told you so."

Gabriel exhaled, and hummed in amazement. "You never cease to amaze me, Cassie."

He sat down, stirring up the ingredients of his own atole, sans sugar of any sort. Cas never did like sweet things much. Not that Gabriel knew how he could stand unsweetened atole, but….

"He certainly needs someone's help. I am glad you've taken his case so seriously. You've needed a project to help you feel better." He smiled, eyes focused on his mug. "You always feel better when you have a real project to work on."

Gabriel groaned, and watched the steam billow from his mug. Too hot to drink just yet, and he'd burned his tongue enough times to know. Stuff probably hadn't thickened yet, anyway.

"Yeah, well, he's a person, not a project," Gabriel huffed. "Angel. Person. Whatever."

Cas' smile grew. "Irregardless, I understand why you like him."

Gabriel's eyes slid shut. Yep, his little brother had remained observant as hell.

"Your point, Little Bro?"

Cas chuckled. "You should say something. I think he is quite fond of you, too."

Gabriel hummed, an irritated noise, and took his chances with his atole. He blew against the edge of the steaming liquid and tried a tiny sip.

"He's pining over some mate of his back in his own universe," Gabriel told him. "He said angels mate for life. So there's really no point in me saying anything."

Cas swiveled his head, confusion furrowing his brow. As he considered Gabriel's words, he lowered his mug slowly, and his lips contorted into something passing for sad. Or sympathetic, at least.

"I am sorry, brother," he said.

"Eh, don't be," Gabriel answered, hazarding another sip. "It's just a silly thing. He's cute and nice, but that's all it is. Just a crush. I've been a little dry in that department lately, so… yeah." He took another sip, feeling the liquid warm his body. "Besides, I have plenty of reasons to heal him up that have nothing to do with wanting him better. If he can go and get help, he might save all our asses. Time's on _our_ side if we can ship him out of here safely."

Cas stared back, but said nothing for a long while. As the sky brightened, both brothers stared outside the screen door, twin frowns on their faces.

"Any news on the thieves they mentioned in town?" Gabriel asked.

"If they are nearby, no one has seen them lately."

"Hmm." Gabriel took another sip. "Makes me nervous."

"Indeed."

He took another sip, and narrowed his eyes at the world beyond their front door. "I don't like this sky, Cas," Gabriel said.

"Dusty," he answered. "It's already hazed over."

Those sorts of conditions often made for massive storms, the blackouts they so dreaded. Well, at least it was Saturday, and Sati didn't have to go to school.

"We should get the farm prepared," Cas said.

They both stood and moved into action. Gabriel slipped into Sati's room, murmuring softly into her ear. She rolled over and went back to sleep. He decided at the last minute he should let Sam know, too, but in the pale morning light, the angel remained fast asleep. He hadn't moved at all since the night before.

Gabriel sighed, and just didn't have the heart to wake him. Instead, he moved towards the window and bolted it shut, just as he'd done with all the other windows in the house. Might as well let Sam sleep.

* * *

The cornstalks whipped back and forth in the wind, and Gabriel knew a storm would definitely come of this. He had no idea when it would strike, but he didn't want to get caught out in it. They couldn't have long.

He made the unusual call of bringing in and sheltering the combines. He had to protect their solar panels at all costs.

Gabriel had a bad feeling, though, one that had nothing to do with the storm. Something didn't seem quite right.

It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to get hung up on, especially in their line of work. Of course he had a bad feeling, right? A dust storm threatened to loom over the horizon at any moment, and so sure, the weather gave him the heebie jeebies. And it didn't help he'd had to leave Sati virtually all alone at the farmhouse.

Not that he didn't trust Sam. He did. But Sam couldn't do much if anything happened.

Cas' voice on his two-way radio got his attention. The makeshift walkie-talkie buzzed, grainy and distorted, and... yeah, a storm had brewed up static electricity in the air somewhere. Cas couldn't be more than a mile away, but the signal had gone severely screwy.

"Hey," he grunted into his own device. "You'll have to repeat that, Cassie. The air's getting too thick out here."

His voice sounded like a mess of static, but still somewhat comprehensible. "I require another set of zip ties. Did you have any in your lab?"

"Yup," he answered. "Second cabinet beside the stairway. Don't mess up anything."

"I shall endeavor to take care," he answered, and the line fell silent.

Gabriel snorted. If you didn't know Cas well enough, he could sound like a sarcastic ass. His own personal superpower, or something.

Some time passed, and Gabriel reflected on the rotten feeling in his gut. Did the storm have his nerves up more than usual? Maybe he felt anxious because of his missed sleep? A combination of both? He knew things tended to look awful when he skipped out on sleep. More awful than usual, at least.

Gabriel made the trek back to his truck, his eyes flitting to the horizon every time he cleared a row of corn. The tops of the plants hovered just barely over his eyesight. It seemed the late summer corn would do remarkably well this year, but hey, no need to jinx it. They'd already had one great harvest this year, and if all went well, he could harvest this in another month. He'd plow the leaves under just in time to plant the winter corn, shortly before Thanksgiving and hope for the best.

His radio crackled and hummed with static; a single, sharp pop.

He glanced down at the device attached to his belt, and frowned. Probably Cas. Shouldn't he have gotten back to the house by now?

He thought of ignoring it. Cas could have bumped the receiver on something. But the awful, sick feeling he'd had most of the day rose, becoming a heavy, thick lump in his throat. He snatched the radio off his belt and pressed the receiver.

"Cas? What did you say? I can't hear a damn thing."

No response. Gabriel halted, staring down at the radio.

"Hey, Cas, answer me. At least tell me you can hear me."

This time, he heard no static or feedback or anything, just silence. Gabriel felt his heart speed up. He should hear _something_...

The awful sensation grew, and Gabriel decided he'd risk ridicule for racing home if it meant he could know nothing was wrong. He took off in a dead sprint for his truck, and slid over the hood. He hopped into the driver's seat and took off in a blaze of dirt and dust. In his rear view mirror he thought maybe he could see the first wave of a dust storm rising above the edge of the horizon, but against the fury of his own truck's dusty wake, he couldn't tell for certain.

When he reached home, Cas' car sat there untended, and the farmhouse door stood wide open... which Cas never did. Shit.

He hopped out and took off in a dead run for the door, near hysterical. "Sati! Cas! Sam!"

In hindsight, he should exercised a bit more caution.

He entered the front door, only to see a flash of light, and feel a painful force explode across his face. The barrier did not yield or move, so all his forward momentum swiveled him about and planted him face-down on the the floor.

He groaned in pain, choking as he tried to avoid a flow of blood into his throat. Ugh...

"Cas..." he rasped, but another blow—he had just enough time to see a boot—struck him about the side of the head.

He knew before even seeing their faces who they were: the bandits.

"Daaaad!" came Sati's panicked scream, which ramped up all of his senses in high gear. He struggled to get to his feet, uncaring whether he could stand or not.

"Get your hands off of her," he rasped at his assailant, half-choking on blood. Finally, he saw Cas, thrown against a wall and bleeding.

Sati's screams and shouts migrated towards the front door, and Gabriel blinked through the dizzy haze long enough to see two men, one of whom had a swinging Sati trapped in his arms. They meant nothing good for her, and Gabriel charged, barely even able to stand. One man rebuffed him easily, much to Sati's horror as she screamed for them to leave them alone.

As Gabriel bled on the floor, trying his damnedest to stand up again, they talked amongst themselves.

"What's taking them so long up there?"

"They're dealing with the big guy upstairs, the one with a cast on his leg. Don't worry, it won't take much longer. We'll finish them all off in a second."

Gabriel felt a rush of alarm for everyone: for Sam, sick and trapped upstairs; for Cas, bleeding and unconscious; for Sati, unable to fight back; and himself, even. 'Finish them off' usually meant one thing.

He struggled, sprawled on the floor, commanding his legs to work. But nothing moved, and he couldn't even feel them.

A bone-curdling scream filled the air, and a split second later, a man came flying down the stairs, crashing into the wall so hard he cracked the concrete frame behind it.

Gabriel stared through the spots in his vision, and the only thought he had for a good two seconds was how glad he felt that the man leaving an impression on their wall wasn't Sam. A second scream lit up the house, and he remembered how pissing off an archangel—even a weak one—never ended well. He felt stupidly glad Sam was on their side.

"What the—?" one of the men began, but didn't get to finish as a second man came stumbling down the stairs, and collapsed; a long, silver archangel blade embedded in his chest.

The stairs thumped rapidly, and Gabriel swiveled his head just in time to see their resident archangel stumbling down the stairs, minus his cast and splint. He looked like ten kinds of hell, but also extremely pissed.

His eyes swept the floor, meeting Gabriel's gaze for an instant before settling on Castiel's form, and returning to the two men backing away towards the door.

"Release her," Sam growled, and the windows rattled with the depth and power in his voice. " _Now_."

"No way. We let her go and you'll skin us alive."

Sam held out his hand to his side, and the archangel blade which had previously been embedded in one of the bandit's chest went free, flying straight into his hand. He gripped the bloody blade and stood straight, and Gabriel felt no small amount of intimidation at how tall and huge he looked, chest puffed up like his wings were splayed in full attack mode.

That was how an angel postured, and even when Sam hadn't directed it at him, it didn't look any less terrifying.

"You... you're not human. What the fuck are you?" one breathed, his back connecting with the wall.

"The end of you, if you do not release her now," Sam growled. The windows rattled with every vowel, the lights above them flickering.

Gabriel had to struggle to stay conscious. It felt like the very air in the room had drained away, too heavy and sharp, like ozone.

"We can't—."

"I do not believe you understand," Sam hissed. "Fleeing is not an option. I will, however, allow you to live if release her unharmed."

The two men shared a terrified glance between them, but then the second man took out a pistol, and Gabriel knew it was all about to go to hell.

Quick as a flash, Sam's hand extended just as the man fired, and it seemed as though the shots went nowhere. They exploded out of the gun into Sam's general direction, but Gabriel didn't see _anything_. The man continued to fire as Sam approached, and emptied all his rounds in horror. Sam clapped a hand on the man's forehead, and he exploded into light and flame, and... _shit_. So Gabriel had thought he could go forever and never witness another smiting, but he didn't mind watching this guy turn to ashes and dust.

The other man was having none of that, and turned on his heels and fled, Sati still trapped in his grip.

"No!" Sam cried, and raced after them, as though his leg worked perfectly; as though he hadn't been bed bound moments earlier.

Gabriel crawled after them, unable to make his legs work enough to stand. Dragging himself to the open doorway, he realized a huge plume of dust towered over them, and would strike in seconds. He witnessed Sam chasing down the other man, who dropped Sati at the last second. Sam buried his blade into the thief's chest.

And Sati fled straight into the corn, immediately in the direction of the storm.

As the man dropped to the ground, Sam snapped his head back in Gabriel's direction for a split second, half-panicked.

"I shall retrieve her!" he called, though Gabriel could barely hear his voice. And as the storm bore down upon them, he retreated straight into the black-brown wall of dust.

 _'Keep her safe,'_ he prayed, half in a daze, unsure if Sam could hear him at all. _'Please Sam, please... Don't let her die...'_

The storm struck, Gabriel still in the open doorway. Dirt and dust scoured across his face and eyes and into his mouth, and he gagged on it. So, this was how he would die: halfway hanging out of his own front door, choking to death on dust he couldn't crawl away from. All the while, praying to an angel not even of this universe that he could keep his daughter safe.

He felt a pair of strong hands on his back, and blacked out.

* * *

Gabriel awoke to the sound of fierce wind, and sand and dust pelting the walls outside. The storm had grown ridiculously loud, as some of them tended to be, and it sounded as though someone had placed a microphone outside and transmitted the sound directly in his ear.

Oh, wait. That would probably be the splitting headache.

He groaned, turning his head to the side. He'd been stretched out on the ratty downstairs couch, and in the lamplight, he could see Cas hovering over him.

"You're lucky, brother," Cas told him. "I'm surprised your skull isn't fractured. You are, at the very least, concussed, and your nose is broken."

Gabriel blinked, his eyes moving to the window. Had it already gotten dark? Had his injuries knocked him out for so long? Or had the storm gotten that dreadful?

"It's late evening," Cas told him, as if reading his mind. "The storm has only gotten worse. Nighttime will fall soon, but with the sun blocked by the dust, we cannot tell the difference."

He felt dazed, like his own storm of confusion hovered overhead. Like he had forgotten something.

"Sam and Sati have not returned," Cas told him, voice soft and worried.

Oh, yeah. The thing he forgot.

It took a few seconds for Cas' words to sink in, but when they did, Gabriel bolted straight up. It was a mistake, since it caused a huge surge of pain. He ignored it, struggling to his feet and trying his best to make his way to the door. Cas easily subdued him, forcing him back to the couch.

"No, no!" Gabriel shouted. "Sati's out there, I've got to—."

"Sam is with her," Cas interrupted, wrapping his strong arms around Gabriel. "He will keep her safe."

Gabriel made a noise, struggling in Cas' grip, and began to sputter things in rapid succession. "He's in awful shape. Why isn't he back? Why didn't he bring her back? How do we know they're okay? We—."

"Shush," Cas interrupted again, one hand rubbing Gabriel's back. "I'm worried, too. But we have to trust Sam. He would do anything to keep Sati safe. You know this."

Gabriel whined, the sound vibrating deep in his nasal cavity somewhere, and _fuck_ , that hurt.

"You cannot do anything but wait the storm out," Cas told him. "If you go outside now, you'll become a casualty. Anyone would." He paused. " _Except_ an angel. Remember, only his sword can kill him. He may be ragged around the edges after the storm, but he'll be fine, and so will Sati."

Gabriel tried—and failed—to keep tears from snaking out of the corners of his eyes.

"Sati," he whimpered, falling limp in Cas' arms. Struggling became too difficult and his head hurt too much and his little brother was right. "Sam..."

"They'll be fine," Cas repeated. "They will."

Gabriel pressed his face into Cas' shoulder and pretended he wasn't crying, that he wasn't scared absolutely to death by the implications of everything going on.

"I shouldn't have left," he whimpered. "I shouldn't have. Should've stayed here today. Should've... Had a terrible feeling all day, I should've..."

"You should rest," he told him, rubbing his back. "You want to recover to your best so you may go out when the storm clears."

Gabriel cast a glance at the door, but he knew he wouldn't get past Cas. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"As I approached the door, I heard Sati screaming. I entered inside and ascended the stairs to find Sam struggling with one of the assailants while Sati hid behind him. I moved to assist, but I was unprepared for the other two men. They dragged me away and threw me down the stairs."

Gabriel flinched. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Relatively unhurt," he said. "I struck the back of my head on the stairs, and broke a tooth which pierced the side of my cheek. I experienced a period of unconsciousness, which was quite disadvantageous in this case." He paused. "I am sorry."

Leave it to Cas to blame himself. "Somehow, I think you fared better than I did. Doesn't your head hurt?"

"Indeed," Cas answered. "But I am fine. You are worse. I will keep an eye on you. Rest."

Gabriel again glanced at the door, only to have Cas force his head in another direction. He held a glass of water up to his lips. Gabriel wanted to protest and say he could drink on his own just fine, thank you, but then his limbs did feel heavy and awful, and his head hurt, so he downed the glass easily and without complaint.

"Good," Cas told him. "Now sleep. I shall wake you up the moment the storm clears."

Gabriel shut his eyes obediently, but his mind was far from asleep. His head pounded, right across the top of his forehead and along his nose. He knew the wisdom in Cas' words. He needed to stay in the best shape possible so he could rush outside at the first clearing.

These dust storms could become so thick the trek from his truck or Cas' old car could become absolutely impassable. That had actually happened once, to Gabriel's horror, with Sati in his arms when she'd been about four. He'd had to drop to the ground, try and hope he remembered which direction he came from, and crawl in the direction of the house... all without any ability to see anything. He had touched the porch before he saw it, and only with great concentration did he maneuver Sati up and over the steps. Even hunched down on the wood, he'd barely been able to see the wood of the porch at all.

This storm looked like that one; like one of those dark storms that mimicked the darkness of a cave, where if you held out your hand in front of your face, you'd touch your eye before you could see your finger. They were utterly terrifying, and they tended to deposit a lot of dust.

Any other time, he might feel kind of anxious about the crop getting buried underneath all the new dirt and dust, but this time, fuck the crop. Sati was out there, and his little girl's only hope was the busted-up, weak archangel who'd followed her out into the bowels of a hellstorm.

If Sam _could_ have returned, if his Grace or strength would have allowed it, he would have come back by now. Doubtless, he had burrowed down somewhere with Sati.

 _'Oh, God_. _...'_ Gabriel felt tears snake from his eyes. _'Please, God,'_ he prayed _, 'let them live. Please, oh please, let Sati be safe. Let Sam be safe. Oh God, please, I know I don't ever pray and I've said some bad things about you before, but please, please...'_

He turned his head to the side, wrenching his entire body away from where he knew Castiel sat. He couldn't face his brother, not now. If Sati died, Gabriel had almost nothing. She'd become his entire world these past few years. He'd promised Kali on her deathbed he'd protect her against anything, but now...

Now, he had to rely on Sam, whom the storm no doubt would flay to pieces if he hadn't found shelter somewhere.

Gabriel could scream. Screw praying to God; the bastard hated them. He'd left his precious angels to screw up their world, and hadn't done a damn thing to help. No, Gabriel knew he'd prayed to the wrong guy.

"Sam," he breathed aloud before he could stop himself, "please protect Sati. Please, please..."

He felt Cas' hand on his shoulder, warm and solid, and he squeezed his eyes harder.

"He is an archangel," Cas breathed, soft. "And unlike the ones we've known here, Samael is a creature of his word."

Gabriel tried not to sob, tried not to feel utter terror for the both of them, stuck out there in the storm. Sam hadn't been in any shape to do what he'd just done. He hadn't had the health to march down the stairs and fight off assailants. Hell, the night before, he'd been a shattered mess, sobbing and weak and miserable, and Gabriel had to help him back up the stairs. Sure, he'd said a few days ago he was stronger than he looked, but...

 _'Holy archangel,'_ he prayed, hysterical and miserable and pained, _'Samael, please, keep my daughter safe. 'Oh god, please, please... We're fine, we're both... we're okay. Keep her safe. Keep yourself safe, oh god, please... Don't die on us, please….'_

His head swirling between injury and medicine, he passed out at some point, still praying mindlessly to the angel.


	11. Chapter 11

He awoke at some strange hour, dark and deep. But he felt better in _some_ ways, even if his head seemed to hurt worse.

Gabriel sat up at a snail's pace, not willing to risk searing pain at doing so too quickly. He blinked in the darkness. Either night had fallen, or his injuries had rendered him blind. Probably nighttime.

The storm whipped and raged outside, but the overall sound had softened; the ferocity had lessened. He didn't know if the lower volume signified whether his head injury _or_ the weather had improved, but he tried to think of it as a good thing.

He stumbled to his feet, pleased to find his legs in good working order… at least so long as he didn't think of Sati and Sam. His entire body shuddered, and a subtle, sickening tremor spread through his limbs. He found he couldn't do anything _but_ worry.

He could walk the house blindfolded, and so he maneuvered around well enough, despite his injuries. He almost tripped over a chunk of concrete from when Sam had thrown one of the bandits down the stairs (or, at least, so Gabriel _thought_. The darkness made it hard to tell).

Speaking of bodies, where had the two men who'd met their ends in their living room gone? Maybe Cas had tossed them outside into the storm...

He made his way to the door, and pulled away the shade covering the window. Darkness. He couldn't see a thing, not even the tiniest sliver of moonlight. Nothing.

He trudged up the stairs with care, bare fingers sliding along the wall as he shuffled along the well-worn path to his bedroom. Once inside, he fumbled around for a match, hoping to light the oil lamp he kept on a nightstand. Thankfully, it hadn't moved or broken after the day's events, and with a strike of the match, the room revealed itself in the dim light. He turned the tiny dial near the burner, and the wick expanded upwards into the glass globe, brightening the room with more light. It'd eat away at the wick faster, but he had plenty more for replacements.

Gabriel frowned. He had a nasty habit of allowing the lamps to burn too much oil before replenishing the supply, and his own lamp was the worst of the lot. But it had enough for a while.

He suspected there they had no power, and a casual flip of the light switch confirmed his suspicion. They hadn't had time to store up extra power today, much less conserve what they'd had once the storm had struck. The power had drained all day, bled dry.

The storm had probably scoured the solar panels half to death up there. Gabriel hadn't had time to prepare them. When it came time to sweep the dust off, he hoped he didn't find a lot of damage.

Gabriel sank to the floor, folding his legs under him and burying his face in his arms. He'd do anything to distract himself, anything to keep from thinking about how two people he loved and cared for were stuck out in one of the worst, most hellish dust storms he'd ever seen. And if the both of them died, if they choked to death or if the dirt cut them both to shreds…. Gabriel didn't know if he could survive his only child's death.

But Sam's death would kill him, too, because he _loved_ Sam.

In the flickering lamplight, with only the sounds of the storm and his own heavy breathing, Gabriel braced himself for the panic that might follow such an admission. But no surge of panic followed. Only a single thought filled his mind: if he had to fall in love, if he _had_ to go and be stupid and fall for someone, at least it had been Sam. Kind and decent Sam.

But then he felt consumed with all the desire and the longing he'd held back all this time, all the things he tried so hard to hide every time he touched the angel. He recalled all the times he wanted to get closer, but refused, because Sam had remained injured and sick. Just because Sam made for good company didn't give Gabriel the right to creep him while injured, angel _or_ human.

Right now, though, Gabriel needed— _needed_ —to tell Sam how he felt, before it ate him alive. He needed to sit the archangel down and admit all his sins, admit how he'd done him a huge disservice but, but, but he'd make it all okay. He understood Sam had a mate back home and Gabriel would still take great care of him until he could leave.

He needed to make everything okay. He needed everything to work out okay.

For a fraction of a second, he thought about praying it all to Sam in one jumbled, angst-ridden heap of words and emotion. But he thought better of it. With Sam no doubt fighting to survive out there, the last thing Gabriel needed to do was whack him over the head with shocking news. It could wait.

Or maybe Gabriel's own fear got in the way, but regardless, Gabriel didn't argue with the thought.

He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands and arms. They'd dried over with caked blood and dirt, and remembered he should probably wash up. Otherwise, he'd scare the everliving shit out of Sati when he did see her next.

Because he _would_ see her again. He would. Sam would protect her. Gabriel believed it. He had to.

He found a basin of water he'd set out the night before and forgotten to dump (thank goodness for small favors), and set about scrubbing his arms down. He set the oil lamp high up on the dresser, and stared at his awful face in the mirror as he scrubbed; layered with dust, matted and clumped where his tears had fallen and blood had gushed. He wiped it all away, ignoring the stings of pain he felt when cleaning around his nose, or around the two blows to his head.

They couldn't do anything about his nose. It'd just have to heal in place. The forehead and the back of his head, however, could do with something cold. If they had power, he'd go for ice, but for the moment, he settled for splashing cold water on his forehead. Cas, as usual, had been right. At least his skull hadn't fractured. Otherwise, he'd have fallen into a coma by now.

He set the old towel on the floor, and stripped of his clothes, forcing his hands to methodically clean himself. If he didn't focus on _something_ , if he didn't force himself to follow some routine, he'd perch by the front door, waiting for the dust to clear just enough for him to see past the porch. And that would be a mistake, because he'd get lost too quickly in the storm. Maybe Sam could protect Sati, but he certainly couldn't help Gabriel if he got lost, too.

When he finished, he dunked his head in the mucky water, scrubbing his hair—and head injuries—clean of dust and blood… or as clean as able.

With clean clothes and two fresh blankets, he returned downstairs with his lamp, the light dimmed as to not bother Cas. He set the lamp upon the table, and examined his brother.

Cas hunched over in his chair awkwardly, dozing. He appeared as filthy from head to toe as Gabriel had, but other than a red, spotted wound on his cheek (probably from the broken tooth he'd mentioned), he didn't see any blood.

Gabriel took one blanket and wrapped it around Cas. He stirred for a moment, blinking up at Gabriel.

"I'm fine," he said. "You need a blanket. It's too cold in here. Go back to sleep."

Cas accepted the extra blanket, and curled up in it, his eyes fluttering shut. Gabriel wrapped the other blanket around himself and blew out the lamp.

As he settled back on the couch, he felt mildly guilty for not offering it to Cas. But it did feel great to rest, to lay his aching head down. He tried not to think too much about Sam and Sati stuck out in the wind, but failed.

Gabriel laid in the quiet, dozing fitfully, his ears struggling to find any change in the storm.

* * *

He hadn't meant to fall asleep again, but to stay awake and listen to the storm. His eyes flew open, and at once he knew their dust storm had begun to clear. Hell, maybe the change in the wind itself had awoken him.

The vaguest light, hazy and unclear, cast the room in dark shadows at some point late in the blue hour. The sky hadn't yet turned red and orange with the sunrise, but still, the morning had arrived.

He rolled to his feet and moved to the door, making enough noise for Cas to stir behind him. Gabriel peered out the window, and he could see just the very edge of the front porch. Everything else dissolved into a blue haze.

It took all his willpower not to race outside right then. No, he had to wait.

"It's clearing," Cas muttered, and Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to see him staring out the kitchen window.

Gabriel charged up the steps, probably faster than was strictly advisable, and retrieved an old shirt. Cas' footsteps thundered behind him, presumably following his lead. Gabriel dunked the shirt in a basin of stale water, and tied the soaking wet garment around his nose and mouth. Nearby, he snatched a pair of goggles and a coat, and raced back down the stairs.

"How do you feel, Gabriel?" his brother asked, close on his heels.

"Got a headache the size of Montana," he admitted, "and I can't feel my nose. The light makes my eyes hurt. But more or less, I'm all right."

Again, it took all his willpower not to charge out the door. He had to wait. He had to make sure the clearing hadn't fooled them; that the storm hadn't merely lulled.

But several minutes passed, and the sky continued to clear. He could see further, he… could see the outline of a body on the ground—one of those blasted thieves.

Oh, fuck it. He'd waited long enough.

Apparently, Cas agreed, as he charged out the door just behind Gabriel.

He sucked in a painful lungful of dusty air, even though the shirt.

"Sati!" he shouted as hard as he could, his voice faint against the remaining wind. "Sam!"

Cas moved in an opposite direction, perpendicular to Gabriel's path. "Sati! Samael! Where are you?!"

Gabriel came to a stop over the body of the thief. The storm had torn his skin ragged. Jesus. Must have been some heavy, sharp particles saltating around down there. Not good. He pulled Sam's blade free, tucking it in his belt before continuing.

"Sam!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Sati! Where are you two?! Call back to us!"

The edge of the sky had turned rosy, just the slightest dusting of color in the hazy sky. Gabriel stumbled through row after row of corn, but when he moved into a clearing beyond, he could see the reddish haze. Good, good. It signaled the clearing of the storm.

He drew in the biggest breath of air he could, and at the top of his lungs, he screamed his daughter's name. Then Sam's.

Nothing but the wind called back.

The sky progressively grew more and more red, now tinged with early shades of orange. Finally, finally, the storm blew past, and the dusty remnants thinned. The haze would last a week, and the dust had buried so much, but the worst of it would settle out quickly.

So far, the only other noise Gabriel heard, aside from the whistling wind, was Cas' shouting in a not-so-distant part of the field. Gabriel had to strain to hear his brother's deep and not-so-distant voice, and so Gabriel told himself the wind made it too hard to hear anything yet. It did nothing to keep him from getting frantic. Every torturous moment he didn't hear either Sam or Sati calling back threatened to make him physically ill.

After an eternity spent searching, on the verge of sunrise, he thought he heard something shrill and high-pitched on top of the too-cold wind.

He froze.

And again, faintly: "Dad! Dad!"

His heart leapt up into his throat. "Sati!" he screamed. "Sati, where are you?!"

"We're over here! Over here!"

"Keep shouting to me!" he called back. "Keep screaming, Sati!"

"Over here!" she called again. "Dad! Hurry!"

"Cas!" he screamed, "they're over here!"

Stumbling through dirt and corn and too much dust, he breached row after row of corn, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Over here!" she shouted again, this time much, much closer.

"Sati!" He burst through several more rows of the freakishly-tall corn, and almost fell over them.

Sati stood on her feet, her hands cupped around her mouth, a moment away from shouting for him again. Sam sat hunched over, conscious and upright, but he looked like ten kinds of hell.

Gabriel dropped to his knees and folded Sati into his arms. After a moment, he pulled her away, desperately searching her body for injury, but she didn't have a scratch on her. Hell, she didn't even look dirty.

"I'm okay, dad," she told him.

Gabriel ripped away the mask from his face and kissed her cheeks over and over, touched her hair to make certain she was real. She hadn't sustained a single injury. She had clear and unblemished skin, and despite the cold November morning, she didn't even shiver.

He turned his head in Sam's direction, and saw the exhausted archangel staring back at him through heavily lidded eyes, half out of breath and bleeding. His one wing laid haphazardly across his shoulder, limp and caked with dusty blood.

"Sam protected me," she murmured into the wind, but she sounded frightened. Fuck, Gabriel had just laid eyes on him, and even he felt no small amount of fear.

Cas came bursting through the corn a few paces down, and raced towards them from Sam's side. His eyes momentarily washed over Sam's ragged form, but he dropped to his knees beside Sati.

"We were so worried," he told her, hugging her, tearing away his own mask to kiss her hair.

Gabriel disentangled himself from Sati, letting Cas comfort her. He crawled over to Sam's side, examining his exhausted, trembling form. Mindless of the blood and dirt, he reached out and touched the angel's bloody, torn face. Tears streaking down Gabriel's own. How could words ever be enough?

"Thank you, Sam," he half whimpered. "Thank you, thank you..."

"I would die before I allowed harm to befall her," he answered, his voice was thin and wheezing.

The answer made new tears form in his eyes, and he believed the angel didn't exaggerate.

"You might want to put your wing away," he said, voice soft. "I'll have a time dragging you back to the farmhouse with it out."

He meant it to sound light, to add a touch of levity to a nasty situation. But when Gabriel got a closer look, he realized the storm had torn at his wing viciously, making it worse than he'd ever seen.

Sam shook his head. "I cannot."

Gabriel's initially thought they'd work with that. They'd figure it out and get him back to safety. He rounded the angel to get a better glimpse at the damaged limb...

...and saw it hanging on only by one tiny patch of fleshy sinew.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, without even thinking, before he could think to clasp a hand over his mouth and stop the words.

"What's wrong?" Sati asked, staring back. "What's wrong, Dad?"

The sense of panic in her voice told Gabriel she knew a lot. She knew Sam had gotten hurt, and enough to encourage panic among the adults. She probably thought it was all her fault. For a seven-year-old who just wanted to be liked and make friends, that was an awful, awful thing.

"Nothing, Sati," Sam answered for him, his voice remarkably calm... though Gabriel could hear the edge of gritted teeth. "Your father is unused to seeing an angel in distress."

"But..."

"Do you remember what I told you?" he interrupted. "That I might frighten you with my appearance when the storm passed?"

She frowned. "Yeah, but—."

"And I told you not to worry, for I would be fine. I told you I would appear far more worse than I am."

She nodded, but Gabriel could see tears in her eyes.

"Castiel," Sam said, "would you take her back home? I must speak to Gabriel before I... return."

"What're you gonna do?" she immediately piped up, and Gabriel grimaced. Perceptive kid. Too damn perceptive.

Cas swept her up from behind, hoisting her up and over his shoulder and disappearing into the tall corn stalks.

"No, no! Uncle Cas, no! Put me down! What're they gonna do? Nooo!"

The sounds of her screaming and protesting slowly faded, and Gabriel grimaced at Sam.

"Sam, your wing…."

"I know," he said.

"I'm really gonna have a time getting you back like this—."

"It is pointless to 'get me back' like this. Neither you nor I can undo the damage. You must cleave the dead limb from my back. It bleeds away Grace as we speak."

Gabriel blinked. And blinked again. "What?"

"Do you have my archangel blade?"

"I... yeah?"

"Good. You shall need it to cut through my True Self."

Gabriel stared, his jaw dropping as the reality of the situation set in. "But it won't grow back!"

Sam's head drooped. "I am aware. It matters not. It cannot be saved. Cut it off."

"But—."

"Cut it off!" Sam shouted, interrupting him. He met Gabriel's eyes, and the expression of utter exhaustion horrified him. "Please, just do it..."

Somehow, against his will, Gabriel felt his hand closing over the hilt of the blade.

"Is there nothing else we can do?" he asked, voice thin and dry. "Anything we can try?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. If you do not cut it away, I shall continue to bleed Grace through the open wound. With it gone, the cut will stem itself and Grace will cease flowing."

Gabriel stared at the wing, and at Sam's hunched form. "There has to be something else we can do!"

Sam shook his head, tired and trembling in pain. "I've knew what would become of it when I exposed it to the storm. It kept both Sati and I safe." He paused, and met Gabriel's worried eyes. "It was my choice, Gabriel. Do not agonize yourself over it. I chose harm to myself for her sake. If I had been stronger, I would have returned to your home, but I could only burrow down here and wait out the storm."

Gabriel felt his own eyes stinging, and his throat thick with both gratitude and regret. How could someone be so giving? So kind? And if he'd been a better father, if he'd paid heed to the terrible feeling he'd been nursing before the storm, he might have prevented this all together.

A hand closed around his wrist, the same which held the archangel blade. Gabriel realized his eyes had gone distant and he'd begun to tremble.

"Gabriel," Sam told him, gentle and soft and completely at odds with how scraped up and awful he looked. "It's all right."

"I'm sure there's no universe in which this is actually all right," he blurted out, unsure of how else to respond.

"It is when I ask it of you," he said. "I would trust no other to do this."

Gabriel's eyes stung, and thought he might choke on a sob. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, vision going blurry.

"I made my choice," Sam told him. "Now I need your help to finish it. The longer we wait, the more Grace bleeds from the wound."

Right. Right, Gabriel reminded himself. He couldn't let that happen for a lot of reasons, ones that had nothing to do with the angel leaving their universe to go get help, or going home. Gabriel had to help him live. He had to.

"How should I...?"

"Just... grip the base of the scapular patch—where the scapular patch once existed—and cut. It should slide through without resistance."

He stared at the bloody, flayed mess of Sam's back and the remnants of both wings. A long, ugly patch of mottled scar tissue rippled down the length of his rear torso on the right side, from shoulder blade to the small of his back. Once, a mighty, proud wing had existed there, before fate and bad luck had ripped it from his back in one awful burst.

It had all scarred over well enough, and the raised shape had receded into his back, as though he'd never had the wing at all. It looked as though some awful accident had carved deep into his back. It had slowly healed over time, the wounds turing from angry and red to softer pinks and whites. But now, the storm had sliced the old scars open, bleeding along with the rest of his skin. At least no Grace bled from the old wounds.

But the remaining wing did, bloody and sticky and trembling as it laid across Sam's body, the swell of a limp wing joint curved over his left shoulder. Gabriel could see the tiniest pinprick of soft, violet light from underneath the dead wing.

For a morbid moment, he tried to imagine feathers, bright and colorful and all shades of the sky. Blue-gray like the early hours of gloaming; like the blue hour. Or golden, like the first and last rays of the sun. Or even white, like the fluffiest, beautiful clouds of the bluest skies. Pure and lovely—just like Sam.

"Gabriel," Sam said, his voice halting his thoughts.

"I can't," Gabriel offered miserably. "I… I can't. You… you won't go home if I do."

"At this point, I shall not return home even if you do not," he answered, hand tightening around Gabriel's wrist with a warm, encouraging squeeze. "But I _will_ die if you do not. I will sit here and bleed all my Grace away, and all the efforts you've made to keep me alive will be for naught."

Said as if all their efforts hadn't had some sort of selfish end goal to their benefit. Gabriel almost wept.

"I can't. I can't cut off an angel's wing," he half sobbed, but creeping at a snail's pace, his hands did as Sam had instructed. He closed shaking fingers around the top of the wing, where it had already separated from the body.

"I can't cut of an _archangel's_ wing. It's… it's unholy."

Things like holiness and divinity had never concerned Gabriel much. He never used to believe in God or angels or demons, or any of the spooky things his little brother hunted (unbeknownst to him). He believed in the things he could see and touch and perceive, not the myths and stories.

But the wing he held was no myth. It bled and shook, and… oh god, it would _kill_ Sam. The violet glow had strengthened, just at the base where the wing still hung on to the rest of him by threads.

"A holy thing does not exist all on its own," Sam told him, voice soft. "I am not holy only because I am an archangel. The things I do, the choices I make, those determine whether I am wicked or not." One hand reached back, touching Gabriel's shoulder. "To save my life by doing as I request constitutes nothing unholy, and would I could but reach it, I would do it myself and spare you the agony of having to do it for me."

The idea of Sam taking his own blade and having to saw off his own wing made Gabriel cringe. Tears filled his eyes and his fingers twitched.

Yeah, okay, he could do this. He had to.

"What about once it's off?" he breathed. "What do I do then?"

"It should close up on its own," Sam said.

" _Should?_ "

"You may place pressure to the wound if it does not close up within a few moments. If you truly desire to keep me alive, your soul will push back upon my Grace and trap it inside my form. Such will aid in keeping my Grace inside."

"I can affect you like that?"

"With my permission, you may. And you have both my permission and my trust."

Trust. So much trust over things so gruesome.

Fuck this. Fuck all of it. Gabriel would figure out a way to change everything. He would spend his life trying to make those wings grow back if he could. But he wouldn't let this gentle, beautiful angel walk around wingless forever. He vowed it, silently. He would restore them. Somehow. _He would._

His hands shook as he positioned the blade, carefully maneuvering into the torn folds of skin and bone. He tried to avoid raw skin and glowing Grace, but in such a tiny chasm he found it impossible.

Sam curled over on himself, his fingers digging into the soft dust beneath them. Gabriel couldn't imagine the agony he must have felt, and to see him bracing for worse cracked open his heart.

Gabriel's own vision clouded with tears. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he breathed. "So sorry." And he slid the blade through.

It felt easy, too goddamn easy, like the blade could cut through archangels as though they had no substance at all. Jesus. He'd known these blades could kill them, but were they truly so fragile against them?

Sam howled in agony, his eyes going bright violet for an instant—an instant long enough to make Gabriel's heart thump in alarm. But no, the flash of light had been a cry of pain, pure and simple and awful.

The wound beneath him glowed purple and white, and Gabriel dropped the blade and pressed both hands to it, willing the Grace to stay inside and not leak away. He didn't know how to command his soul into doing the thing Sam said, but he certainly desired Sam to live. So he kept the thought dear to his heart.

It must have worked, because while the wound still glowed, he saw no more light seeping away. The violet hue retreated, and despite the fresh flow of blood, the skin knitted together at an agonizingly slow pace. But it did seal up, leaving behind angry, red scratches and streaks and a horrible, jagged wound that looked as though it might tear open if Sam so much as moved.

Sam trembled in the dirt, sobbing, Gabriel's hands still pressed against his back. Slowly, he pulled them away, and pulled the angel upright, He folded Sam into his arms, and held him while he wept in unimaginable pain. Now, he would never go home. He'd never leave this godforsaken place. Gabriel had just cut off the one thing that would have allowed him to leave.

The wing slowly smoldered, glowing bright red, and burning to ash before their eyes.

Sam wrenched away from the sight, and once it had all turned to ashes, he trembled.

Gabriel murmured soft encouragements in his ear, and held him while he cried.

* * *

Getting back to the farmhouse presented quite a challenge.

Gabriel had worried at various stages about Sati, about how she might come running back for the both of them. But even though he thought he heard her voice on the wind every now and then, she didn't come bounding through the stalks of corn. He felt so glad, because she couldn't help them, and would only slow them down.

Despite his many injuries, both old and new, Sam seemed to have his feet underneath him. Gabriel took up residence on his left side and tried to carry the oversized vessel as much as he could, all the while scolding Sam about putting weight on his left leg.

The first time Gabriel grabbed Sam's left wrist, he realized the angel had re-broken his forearm, and possibly gained a few new breaks. Sam grimaced when Gabriel touched it, and he immediately retracted his hand and apologized. He settled for lugging at a spot further up his arm. It made his job more difficult, but the bone hadn't broken there.

The arm alone presented difficulty enough, but the further they made it, the more Sam limped on his left leg (and the more Gabriel ordered him to keep off of it, or else). Before long, even in the near-freezing weather, the angel sweated with effort, his vessel plainly overheated, even for him. He struggled to make each step without contorting his expression. His breath became an awful, rattling wheeze, the likes of which Gabriel had not heard since the angel first arrived. He wondered if the angel might shout with the pain of it all.

But Sam bit his tongue, and rebuffed Gabriel's offers to go get Cas to help. The pain caused him agony, he said, but retrieving Cas would mean Sati would return to watch them, and the angel swore he did not wish for her to become more frightened than she already felt.

Gabriel shook his head. Sam had fast become the father Gabriel could never be: more patient, more gentle, and a thousand times more thoughtful. Better in every regard. If Gabriel had ever shipped Sam off on his way to his universe, he knew he could have trusted the angel with his daughter. He would have trusted him to take her to safety, far away from their dusty world.

But that didn't matter now, not with Sam wingless and struggling to breathe. He wouldn't fly to far-away universes anymore. He'd be lucky if they could even get him into bed.

But even as the farmhouse finally appeared, as they emerged from the endless rows of corn, he worried Sam might be beyond that. If his arm, with whatever small amount of weight it had borne, had re-broken, undoubtedly his leg had become a state of disaster once more.

Would they watch him 'die' again? Would he spiral downwards into the awful cycle of death and resurrection he'd seen before, unable to truly break free, but also unable to die because of the chaotic Grace within him?

No. Gabriel wouldn't allow it to happen.

Sati burst through the door, crying, Cas on her heels, only just catching her before she collided with them.

"I am all right, little one," Sam breathed, though he had to strain to even speak. "I am fine. Do not worry."

"You don't look fine," she cried, and Cas picked her up.

"You can't run and crash into him the way you do us, Sati," Cas told her. "His leg is broken. Remember?"

She'd turned red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and nodded. "Uh-huh..."

Cas stood back, Sati still secure in his arms, and pulled open the screen door. Gabriel huffed as he maneuvered Sam though, luckily without too much trouble. He cast a stray glance at the stairs before guiding Sam over to the couch. The confused angel stared up at him as Gabriel pushed him down on the couch.

"Stay still," he ordered, out of breath. "Get comfortable as you can and just... stay put." He grabbed the blanket he'd thrown over the back of the couch, the one he'd slept with earlier, and spread it over the archangel's shaking form.

Sam stared down at the linen, and Gabriel prepared to counter whatever Sam might say about the blood or dust or mess he made. But the angel seemed to think better of it, and his mouth snapped shut. And he nodded. Thank goodness.

Cas regarded his brother with questioning eyes, and Gabriel waved him off. No, he had to think. He had to consider everything. Sam wouldn't do well, not like this. Gabriel had to... he had to think. Even if his head had taken a few whacks in the last twenty-four hours.

He couldn't let his emotions take over right now. Sam needed his brain, not his nerves.

"Sam," he rasped, "what're the chances of another septic infection starting down there in your leg?"

The angel stared back, a frown settling upon his lips. "Likely."

"Do you have enough Grace to...?" he asked, and didn't finish. Insinuating he would die, even in some impermanent sense of the word, would terrify Sati.

"I did before."

"I don't care about before!" Gabriel snapped, and cringed, trying to reel in his overwhelmed reaction. His voice softened. "I want to know about now."

"I... without my wing, I do not think so." He paused, and seemed so small, sitting down there all uncertain. "I may be wrong, but…."

Gabriel clasped his hands over the back of his head, which still ached from getting the shit kicked out of it the day before. He had to think through the haze. He had to plan. He had to consider. Sam had looked rotten out there, but in the light Gabriel could see how badly he'd overtaxed himself. Ridiculously so. Gabriel knew if he didn't want to see a repeat of Sam's near-death experience (and probably a far worse iteration of it), he needed to do something, and quick.

But what?

The answer had floated in his mind for some time, hovering just beyond what he wanted to consider: Saint Louis. The trip was a bitch even in the best of health, and in Sam's condition he hadn't wanted to subject the angel to more torture than necessary. The roads between Lebanon, Kansas and Saint Louis, Missouri had weathered a decade of disrepair and abandonment.

They'd have to deal with his Grace, and extract it before they made it into town. Sure, _now_ Gabriel knew how to do it, and he had a vial to hold it, but the hospitals didn't take everyone anymore, so he'd heard. They took patients only on good days, and often only the best cases. What if they drove five hundred miles to Saint Louis, only to have the hospital turn them away?

But they _did_ take children… and their parents.

Gabriel frowned, glancing over at Sati.

The hospital at Saint Louis, so he'd heard, took children and their parents. Couldn't have a new generation of farmers if all the parents died, after all.

"Sati," he breathed, and knelt down. "Come here. Cas, put her down."

Cas hesitated, but set the little girl on her feet. She bolted over to Gabriel, and he folded her up in a huge hug. God, he loved her.

"Do you know how much I love you? How brave you are?"

" 'm not brave," she cried.

"Yes, you are," he told her. "So brave. My brave little scientist, right? I need you to be brave again. I need you to help me help Sam."

She stared over at Sam, who seemed to observe the scene in confusion. "I can help?"

"Oh, yes," Gabriel told her. "I have to take Sam to a hospital, far away in Saint Louis. They don't take everyone, but they take parents who have children."

Confusion creased her forehead. "But Sam's not my dad."

"But I need you to pretend he is."

She glanced at Sam, then back at Gabriel, but said nothing for a long moment.

"Can you do that, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking her hair. "Will you go with us and help Sam?"

She peered back over at Sam, who stared on with something between alarm and confusion. Her head snapped back to Gabriel, and she nodded vigorously. "I can do that."

"I know it's a lie," Gabriel told her, "and I'm so sorry to ask you to lie. I taught you lying is bad. But right now, it's the only way we can be sure they'll see him."

She nodded again, and some of the weight seemed to evaporate from her shoulders. "He's... kind of like a dad."

Gabriel grinned, and touched her cheek; booped her nose. "Go get some clothes packed. Empty out your backpack and take only what you can fit in there, okay? We won't have a lot of room."

She nodded, and trotted up the stairs, hopping over chunks of concrete and broken wood.

"Cas, I need..." Gabriel's voice trailed off, his mind racing. "I need _all_ the antibiotics. I need the last of the tylenol and the antibacterial salves. Can you pack them up for me while I dig out the truck and get Sam into the backseat?"

Cas hesitated. "Are you in the shape to make this trip, brother?"

"Shut up and pack. I'm fine." He rubbed at the back of his head. "It hurts. it doesn't disable me."

Cas sighed, and nodded, and he made his way up the stairs, avoiding the shattered bits of wood.

"Gabriel," Sam breathed, and it sounded strained and painful. His lungs had gotten in terrible shape out there, and he didn't need a stethoscope to know that.

"Sit tight," he told him, his hand gentle upon his shoulder. "I need to go dig the truck out from the dust."

He didn't give the oversized archangel a chance to protest, and stood, making his way over to the door. As an afterthought, he backed up to the staircase.

"Cas! Pack the respirators and the epinephrine, too!"

"Already done!" his voice came from upstairs. "Shall I pack the dexamethasone, as well?"

"Yeah," he breathed, mostly to himself. Cassie had had a brilliant idea. "Yes!"

"I'll get the spare oxygen tank, too," his head appeared over the side of the railing on the second floor. "Go dig out the truck. I'll pack things you might need."

"You're the bestest little brother ever, Cas," he told him.

He smiled, and his head disappeared from view. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who laid still as he'd been ordered, eyes closed, but undoubtedly listening to everything.

Gabriel snatched the old straw broom and marched back outside. A thick layer of dust buried part of the truck, with all the windows covered over. He took to sweeping away the dense layer of sediment, holding his breath as it puffed up into the air around him. He swept away the dirt caked around the tires, and hopped up into the truck bed to sweep out the extra dirt from there. They'd need to keep a few things back here, such as a tank of water to hold them over for a few days. He'd have to retrieve one of those from his basement lab. It might get dusty on the outside, but on the inside the water would stay fresh and clean.

He had chains and other small tools in the bed of the truck. He thought about keeping them for the trip, but tossed the tools out into the dirt to collect in a few minutes. Sure, they'd provide some utility, but in Saint Louis they'd also get stolen. The chains, however, he could use to lock down all their stuff.

He hopped out of the bed, and moved around the truck to pull open the rear door. He had to collect all his accumulated crap and other trash. He needed the space. They'd have Sam splayed out back here, and Sati would sit in the front seat, and...

Jesus. Was he really taking Sati to Saint Louis?

Was he taking Sam, for that matter?

But of course he was. Now that he stood out here, alone and cleaning up trash and sweeping away dirt, his mind wandered back to the night before, when he'd felt miserable and alone and nearly in tears on his bedroom floor. He'd scrubbed blood and dirt from his face, and wondered how in god's name he'd managed to go and fall in love with an archangel.

He couldn't think of anything inherently bad about it, because Sam wasn't a bad person to fall in love with. Well, he wasn't even a person, but that didn't matter, did it? Sam was just Sam. And Gabriel still couldn't have him.

But if Sam's injuries had him trapped here now, and unable to leave...

A feeling of powerful revulsion ripped through him, and he physically cringed. He had to stop for a moment. How selfish of a thought could one person have? He'd just had to hack off Sam's wing, his only hope of leaving this world, just so he wouldn't die. Now he couldn't leave, and couldn't go find the mate he'd been pining for, and Gabriel had the audacity to stand there, on the verge of wondering if he had half a chance with the angel now.

Of course he didn't. If Sam had waited billions of years for his mate and never once strayed from his path, he wouldn't do so now. And Gabriel felt like a horrible human being for even thinking he might, not even an hour after he'd crushed Sam's last hope.

As he finished cleaning out the back seat, a tiny part of his mind told him he hadn't quite meant it like _that_. He hadn't tried to command Sam's time and attention over his soulmate or whatever. It had just been a random thought, and people think selfish things all the time and hate themselves afterwards, so he should just give himself a break.

In the end, he pushed the thought away, and tried to think only of the mission at hand.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time Gabriel loaded up enough drinking water for the trip, Cas had packed not only the medicine and medical supplies, but had also packed a bag of clothing each for Gabriel and Sam. He'd also bagged several additional blankets, thick and warm to keep their teeth from chattering on the cold nights of the trip.

Gabriel stared at the supplies, and thought he could cry. His little brother really was the best, and he never knew how to make these things up to him. He occasionally got mushy and told him how much these things meant, but he had no idea how to show it.

When he made his way back inside, navigating into the downstairs living room, he found Sati sitting beside Sam, bowl of water in her hand and a soft cloth to dab at his face. She cleaned away the mud, blood, and gunk he'd collected.

Precious girl.

Gabriel momentarily considered the scene, and decided they probably needed to take a chunk of time to clean Sam up thoroughly. The hospital would wonder about all the blood, and Gabriel couldn't come up with a convincing answer when they were taking him in for a broken leg.

The hospital...

Gabriel turned on his heels and descended into his basement lab, flipping the light switch, using up precious electricity to dig around in his cabinet. Somewhere in here he had the special glassware to contain Grace.

He closed chilled, numb fingers around even colder glass, and extracted a medium-sized vial from the cabinet. Unlike the tiny glassware he'd worked with so far to hold scraps of Sam's Grace, this vial would hold it all.

Just in case it cracked on the bumpy trip, he grabbed a second vial. He wrapped them both up in thick cloth, and jogged back out to the truck. He deposited them in the truck's glove box, along with Sam's archangel blade. Luckily, the thing locked, so he wouldn't have to fret about Sati getting her hands on either. He knew she'd take care with the glass, but he didn't want his seven-year-old getting her hands on a deadly weapon.

As he turned to return to the farmhouse, Cas marched outside, bags thrown over his shoulder. Only just then did it occur to Gabriel they couldn't take Cas along. With Sam spread out in the backseat, and Sati in the front, they'd crowd the truck to the gills if Cas rode along, too. No one would have room to move, much less sleep.

On top of that, a five-hundred mile journey meant they'd be gone more than a week. And that estimate accounted for the trip there and back, _not_ any time Sam might spend in the hospital itself. The farm couldn't go so long unattended.

"Don't worry, brother," he said. "I can see you're worrying too much." Cas tucked the bags into the back floorboard, just behind the passenger's seat. Somehow managed to make everything fit with the grace of a Tetris master, and maybe some voodoo thrown in for good measure. "I'll take care of things while you're gone."

Gabriel sighed, shaking his head. "How'd you know?"

"You had your 'oh shit, I forgot about Castiel' look on your face."

Gabriel stared, tried to keep his laughter in, and failed. He laughed long and ridiculous, and laughed and laughed until he cried. Cas' arms wrapped around him, and Gabriel clung to his brother, and the both of them laughed and cried. They both felt tired and worn thin. Injured and aching. Now, despite the gravity of the situation, they laughed, because otherwise they might cry.

Gabriel had always been an expressive one, far more so than Cas. But Cas had his moments, too.

"Talk to Sati's teacher?" Gabriel rasped, wiping tears away with his sleeve.

"Of course. I'll manage the equipment, and see about covering over the solar panels if the dust doesn't settle soon." Cas sighed. " _You_ be careful, brother. You'll need to go off road on this journey. Parts of I-70 have been stripped away by the weather in the last decades. Just... take care?"

"You know I will," Gabriel breathed, and hugged him again.

"US-36 is a safer route. Consider it?"

Gabriel blinked, and gave Cas a _look_. His near-encyclopedic knowledge of roads often caught him off guard. But Cas had been a hunter who once crisscrossed the United States all the time, and it all made perfect sense.

"I will." He rubbed at his face, and glanced at the pillows Cas had deposited in the backseat. "Let's clean him up and try and get him in here."

Gabriel followed Cas back inside, where Sati stood hovering over Sam, now wiping at his neck. The angel turned his head to observe their approaching forms. Sati stopped, staring up at them.

"Almost time to go, kiddo," Gabriel told her. "Go up to your room and stay there until we call for you."

She glanced between her dirty bowl of water and Gabriel. "But he's not clean yet."

"Cas 'n I will take care of that." Gabriel crossed his arms. "To your room. Stay there until we call you."

She hesitated, and Sam reached out and touched her arm.

"It's all right, little one," he said. "They only wish to assist me with cleaning away the dirt."

She frowned, but nodded. Without another word, she stood and marched towards the steps, staring back as she climbed the staircase.

Gabriel and Cas shared a glance, then stared down at Sam.

"Let's make this fast," Gabriel said.

* * *

Sam, ninety-five percent cleaner and free of his questionable bloody wing wound (it had already begun to scar over, somehow), again sat on the ragged old couch. Cas had fetched the angel's last fitting—if snug—set of clothes, and he at last looked presentable. Presentable enough to get admitted to a hospital, anyway. Gabriel couldn't take any chances they'd turn him away for looking _too_ bad.

Sati had returned from her banishment upstairs, staring down at the angel on the couch. "Are you going to put him in the truck now?"

The lines of Sam's face twisted in a grimace, but nodded at her.

"How's he gonna get up the big step?" she asked, peeking up at Gabriel.

Sam also glanced up, clearly interested in the answer.

Cas grimaced himself, crossing his arms. "We shall have to lift him up ourselves."

"I do have one good leg," Sam protested.

"And you can balance yourself on it so we don't all fall," Gabriel countered, reaching down to pat the angel's right shoulder. Should be a safe move, right? He hadn't broken anything over there, right?

"The satchel on the table has food," Cas told Gabriel, picking it up and handing it to Sati. "It's grits and the last of the pemmican."

Gabriel made a face at the mention of pemmican, but beggars couldn't be choosers, right? If they had to burrow down for a long dust storm somewhere, it would make life a lot easier.

He squeezed Sam's shoulder again. The angel stared up at him, expression marred with pain.

"All right, big guy. Time for the fun part."

His expression morphed into something vaguely ill.

* * *

They didn't have as much difficulty hauling Sam out of the farmhouse and into the truck as they'd expected. Getting his oversized body positioned in a non-excruciating manner, however, gave them far more trouble.

But they did manage to get him inside, to secure him as best as possible with a seatbelt. Gabriel had manhandled his leg at one point to see if they had the option of re-splinting it. But he felt too many wobbly bits, and Sam grimaced so much he decided not to risk it.

If Sam got super miserable (and Gabriel knew it was a matter of when, not if) he'd do _something_. He didn't know if this nebulous something would involve resetting the bones himself, or pumping the angel full of something to make him sleep, but he would do _something_.

The road leading out of town passed easily enough, even if Gabriel hadn't maintained the shocks on the truck as well as he should. Tires rode over mostly dust and dirt, and Gabriel kept a close eye for any dips or unnecessary bends in the road. He had to take care, but he also couldn't waste time.

Sati sat in the passenger's seat, uncharacteristically quiet as she occasionally stared back at Sam.

They'd propped the angel up against the wall of the passenger's side, where the truck had no rear door. They'd positioned his left leg in the seat, wrapped in a thick blanket and secured in place with a lap belt wound around it. His busted arm sat in his lap. The lines of his face twisted and scowled at every bump, but the angel made no vocal complaints. Yet.

If they made it, if Sam managed to grit his way through to Saint Louis without shouting for mercy, he certainly wouldn't enjoy the return trip. They might fix him up, but they would ship him off without medicine, and Gabriel knew he didn't have enough to last for both legs of the trip.

Maybe he could pick up more in Saint Louis. God, he hoped so. It still counted as a big city, right? He might be able to find a lot of things he couldn't get in their scrubby little town.

Gabriel glanced back in the rear view mirror again at Sam, who sat with his eyes shut. Maybe in concentration. Maybe in agony. He couldn't have fallen asleep, not at his level of pain.

When he'd been in the Air Force, when he'd crashed the one time, he'd broken his tibia. While not as massive of a bone as the femur, it still caused him a ton of pain. The ride in the ambulance from the site of the crash to the hospital left him in excruciating pain, _and_ they'd already given him medicine. Every bump in the road, every dip, had caused him agony... and back then, people still maintained the roads.

But the roads Gabriel would take them on? They'd had no maintenance in more than a decade, not unless someone local had taken it upon themselves to fill the potholes and gaps with cement. Gabriel could either drive ten miles an hour the entire way, taking care to avoid every single bump, or he could, you know, get on with it and get Sam there as fast as possible.

He'd likely do a bit of both. Sam needed to get there soon. On the way back, Gabriel could take his time, even if the trip made things touchy and painful for the angel.

Sati remained uncharacteristically quiet, her head swiveling around periodically to stare at Sam. She peered through wet, reddened eyes, the soft pinkness of her ordeal in the storm scarcely faded from her cheeks. Gabriel wondered if the dusty road might irritate her eyes further. But either way, she remained, without a doubt, upset.

They drove through what passed as downtown Lebanon, and Gabriel directed the truck around to the old city center. Cas had said the interstate wouldn't provide the best drive, and Gabriel trusted him to know. The old US-36 it was, then. It would take them straight through Kansas and most of Missouri, if the road hadn't faded away entirely in various places (which remained possible, as parts of the interstate had washed away in a flood once).

The old entrance ramp remained intact, even after all these years, pockmarked by potholes and cracks. Gabriel eased the truck onto the disused road, but was pleased to find no debris. At least around here people still used it, and cleared away the mess ever so often.

"Sam," he said, glancing in the rear view mirror, "I'm not going to lie. You're not going to like this ride in the slightest."

"I am aware," he responded, his eyes never opening.

Gabriel thought he just caught the image of gritted teeth as Sam spoke. Jesus, he already felt miserable.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," he breathed, slowly speeding up. "But if I push on, I could have you in Saint Louis by the morning."

"I appreciate... ah..." His voice broke off into a hiss as they crossed a dip in the road. "I am very appreciative of your help."

By then, Sati had turned around in her seat, as though the lap belt simply couldn't hold her.

"Are you hurting?" she asked.

Gabriel kept his eyes on the road, conflicted between speeding up and taking it slower so Sam wouldn't feel so much misery.

"I am, little one," he answered.

Gabriel knew he had to feel rotten to make such a confession. Sam always strove to put other at ease, not to worry them.

"You know, when I broke my arm, the doctor told me sometimes it helps to scream," she said, matter-of-fact. "So I did that a lot on the drive home."

He glanced in the rear view mirror just in time to see Sam smile, the faintest upwards crease of lips.

"I shall remember that."

She hovered just over the edge of the seat, continuing to stare back at him. On the verge of telling her to get back in her seat, she started up again, and Gabriel bit his tongue.

"I'm sorry you're hurt."

"You did not do it, Sati. You not feel regret."

"But it's my fault."

Gabriel's heart ached in his chest, and his mouth went dry. How did they explain to a seven-year-old that protecting her from the storm didn't mean she had any fault in the matter?

"Sati, the angel breathed, "this is not your fault."

"But you got hurt chasing the bad guys away, and keeping me okay in the dust storm."

Gabriel felt tears welling in his eyes. He forced himself to keep eyes on the road, and tried not to look back.

"I know you think of me as being... well, precisely like you," he began, voice measured and careful in a way Gabriel didn't know he had the energy for, "but I am not. I am an angel, and it is my solemn purpose to protect others. It is my _honor_ to be able to provide shelter to another."

Sati said nothing, but she sniffled, still hovering just out of Gabriel's sight.

"Angels protect their charges with as much desperation as a human parent protects their children. Any angel who does not has failed in their role as an angel."

She seemed to consider this. "But you got hurt," she said, and sounded dangerously close to tears again.

"I had these injuries beforehand," he said, "and they had nothing to do with you."

Gabriel turned his head just enough to catch the scene out of the corner of his eye, just in time to see Sam's uninjured arm reaching out to touch Sati's face; long, exacting fingers wiping away a tear from her cheek.

She sniffled, and it turned to a soft whimper. A moment later, she began to cry again in earnest. "IloveyouSamIdon'twantyoutodie," she exhaled, all in one huge sob.

"Oh, Sati," he breathed, and his long hand rested on her cheek. "I shall not die. Do not worry. I am unwell, but my current state is temporary. The hospital will treat me, and I will recover."

Gabriel's fingers shook from gripping the steering wheel, tight and frustrated and too-firm. His eyes were absolutely not on the verge of spilling over. Nope. It had nothing to do with Sati's declaration of love for the patient angel. Not at all.

"We're going to take care of him, Sati," Gabriel said, voice low and quiet. "You and I and Uncle Cas, all of us together. Nothing bad's gonna happen."

She turned in his direction, sucking in air between sobs. "You promise, Dad?"

"I promise," he breathed, and hoped to god he could keep it.

She squirmed right out of her seat belt, and crawled over the seat into the rear floorboard.

"Sati, no—." Gabriel huffed, staring in the rear view mirror, but Sam waved his hand, interrupting him.

"It's all right," he said. "Just for a moment."

With Sati loose and moving around, Gabriel slowed the truck down to a crawl. It mattered very much to him that he not wreck and hurt her. He felt mildly irritated with Sam for encouraging the situation.

Gabriel glanced in the rear view mirror again, and watched her curl up against Sam's good side, his long arm thrown around her in a half-hug while she cried. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

His chest swirled with indescribable emotion as he watched the scene unfold. So good with her. So damn good with her. He knew Sam cared a lot for her, too. The lines of his face and the softness of his eyes shouted his affection for Sati. But for whatever reason, the angel didn't say so.

A weight, stone-heavy and cold, formed in Gabriel's gut. Maybe Sam didn't say anything because he didn't think Gabriel would allow it. In the beginning, when Sam first arrived, Gabriel _had_ threatened to kill the angel if he so much as spoke to Sati, after all.

"He's not going to die, Sati," Gabriel told her, keeping his eyes resolutely on the road. "And I'm sure he loves you too."

He looked back in the rear view mirror, holding Sam's eyes for a brief moment. They had gone wide and surprised, but only for a moment. They shared a world of conversation in a single glance.

"That is correct," Sam murmured, soft and careful, his attention back on Sati. "I do love you, little one. I would not do anything to harm you."

"But... but you're gonna leave us..."

"No," Sam answered, quick and firm. "I am not leaving."

He didn't mention he _couldn't_ leave, not without his wings. Sati didn't need to know that, not yet, and Sam didn't elaborate any further.

Gabriel felt very grateful to Sam for leaving out the gory details.

"You're gonna stay with us?" she asked, and even though her sobs, an air of excitement tinged her voice.

"Sati," Gabriel called to her, reaching back with a hand to touch her arm, trying his best to derail her line of conversation. He didn't want her getting excited _and_ rubbing in Sam's misery. "Sati, Sam needs to rest."

"Is he gonna stay with us?" she asked, and Gabriel could _feel_ her head snap in his direction. Her gaze remained on her father only a moment before flitting back to the angel. "Are you gonna stay with us at home?"

Gabriel knew Sam had no idea to answer. After all, neither Gabriel or Cas had extended any long-term invitations.

"I... uh..."

"Yes," Gabriel interrupted, throwing the flailing angel a lifeline. "He can stay with us as long as he wants." He tightened his hand on her arm, and gave her a gentle tug. "Come on, back to your seat, munchkin."

He tried not to stare back at Sam, tried not to glance back in the rear view mirror to get a glimpse of his reaction. But he lacked the willpower. For a moment, he caught Sam's eyes in the mirror, and the angel just looked so _grateful_ and tired that he might cry.

"Do I have to?" Sati complained.

"I'm afraid I do not have much stamina, Sati," he told her. "But later, when I'm feeling well, I vow to make it up to you."

"In the spring, we can play hide-and-seek in the fields!" she told him, and even though her face remained red and tear-streaked, she had forgotten her misery in favor of a new game.

Sam leaned forward, just a fraction, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

"That sounds fascinating. I look forward to it."

"Sati," Gabriel complained, and it came out like a growl. "Seat. Now."

She unwound herself from Sam's arm, and crawled back over the hump of the front seat. His own agile little spider monkey, full of limitless energy. She slipped back into her seat belt and reattached the clasp.

"Let's let Sam rest, okay?" Gabriel told her, chancing a glance away from the road.

She nodded hurriedly.

"I'm gonna take it as easy as I can, Sam," Gabriel told him, "but..."

"I know," he answered. "I will be fine."

* * *

'Fine', as it turned out, was a relative term, and one that Sam was anything but. And the closest Sam got to 'fine' happened when Gabriel dosed him up with medicine.

They had left early-ish in the morning, not so long after the sunrise, but the five-hundred-mile trip demanded an extreme amount of effort and time. In the old days, with a well-functioning road and gas stations every few miles, the trip would have taken nine or ten hours. And ideally, everyone would have been well-slept and prepared.

But Gabriel pressed on, aching head injury and all, even as the sun sank below the horizon. They'd driven for fifteen hours, and the pace became slow and frustrating in the darkness. Head injury aside, his eyes hurt as he squinted to see dangerous obstacles, and slowed the truck to a crawl. The world beyond the span of his headlights sat veiled in impenetrable shadow, it seemed.

The late date in the year didn't help, either, since the sun set at five-thirty in the evening.

The road forced them to take a detour at one point, and they ended up far south of where they'd wanted to go. The path took them through Kansas City, and Gabriel vowed they would not go back that way. It had morphed into a ruined hole of a place, a hundred times worse than it had been a few years prior. And no hospitals.

But seventeen hours on, with extra gas and diligent navigation (and he wished he had Cas along, because he was _the_ navigator), they finally approached Saint Louis. It stood some thirty miles out, and the ruins of the old suburbs dotted the landscape around them. Farmers had plowed much of the area under to make farmland, and in the darkness, Gabriel often couldn't tell farm equipment from abandoned, dilapidated houses.

As a child, Gabriel had never seen Saint Louis so dark. It had danced with lights, the famous Arch visible for miles out. He shook his head. Just look at it now, he thought, lips curled into a bitter frown.

Sati had long fallen asleep, curled up against his side, lulled under by the humming of the truck's engine. Sam, on the other hand, had remained awake the entire way. His long, muscled body had wound into a continuous line of tension the further they drove.

"We're almost there, Sam," he murmured, voice gentle despite his own exhaustion.

The angel said nothing, and if he nodded or otherwise gestured, Gabriel couldn't see it in the dark.

Eventually, a low glow of light appeared on the horizon, the only sign a city of any sort still existed.

Gabriel still needed to remove Sam's Grace, and before they got into town. He only hoped the Grace detectors couldn't pick up on whatever True Self Sam had tucked away inside his vessel.

He pulled the truck far off the road, coming to a rest on a dusty flat, and cut the lights. Sati didn't rouse, but he'd have to wake her up soon. Gabriel hated having to involve her, but he couldn't do this sort of thing alone. Not in the dark. He'd prepared her as best as he could for how the process would appear, but….

"We have stopped," said Sam's, soft and curious, and just this side of agonized.

"Yeah," Gabriel answered. "I can't dangle you in front of a hospital with your Grace still inside."

In the darkness, he could only guess at the angel's expression, but he sounded none too pleased.

"You will take care of it, yes?" he asked, and sounded so impossibly small.

Gabriel scoffed. "Of course. You should know that by now."

But it occurred to Gabriel that Sam _didn't_ know, not really. He'd fallen into their world, and they'd tied him up straight away. Sure, the situation had improved since then, but Gabriel couldn't blame the angel for having his misgivings. And sometimes, he forgot how an angel's Grace had similarities to a human's soul. Energy or not, it remained a body part of sorts.

"Yes, I promise." He tried to keep any hint of uncertainty from his voice. Sam already seemed half-broken as it was. No need for Gabriel to add any unnecessary angst to it.

Sati stirred against him, uttering a decidedly displeased sound. Gabriel reached across her and unlocked the glove box, removing the archangel blade and one of the glass vials.

"What's going on?" she asked, stirring.

"We're almost there," Gabriel told her. "And I need you to hold a flashlight."

They should have done this during daylight, when the sun would have lit their task, but Gabriel hadn't wanted to chance it. Grace had sustained Sam during the worst of times, and Gabriel hadn't wanted to leave the injured angel without it. Even now, If he thought he could get around the Grace detectors in Saint Louis, he wouldn't remove it.

He climbed over the back seat, planting his feet carefully in the floorboards to avoid their stuff.

"Sati," he breathed. "Flashlight."

He heard the click-click of the switch, and the darkness of the cabin melted away into light. A flashlight didn't provide much light in the scheme of things, but in this inky darkness, it nearly blinded Gabriel. He had to blink several times to adjust.

Sam hadn't moved much in the last several hours. Bad for a lot of reasons, like blood clots and pinched nerves and the like, but he imagined the angel felt too much pain to worry about it. Gabriel maneuvered himself closer, vial in one hand and blade in the other.

He tried to sit beside him while avoiding the stuff packed in the floorboards, but he ended up hunched over Sam in a strange position. He needed to get closer, needed a better angle. With a frown, he realized he would have to nearly straddle Sam to even reach his neck.

"I'm about to get very up close and personal with you," he warned, waiting for the angel to acknowledge him. Sam nodded, and Gabriel swung a leg over his lap, sidling up closer and taking extreme care to stay up on his knees. He knew the angel couldn't withstand even one bit of weight on his leg.

Sam didn't appear flummoxed by it at all, and Gabriel felt a little embarrassed to admit, despite the terrible circumstances, he indeed felt a bit flustered by being so close. He could feel some of the heat from Sam's overwarm body, and...

Focus.

"Sati, shine the light at his neck," he said, and she obeyed. Gabriel glanced in her direction and only saw a halo-y outline of her head and hair.

"Remember what I told you. It's gonna look bad," Gabriel told her. "You'll see some blood. But don't let it scare you. Just keep the light back here on us, okay, sweetheart?"

"I can take it," she said, giving him a solemn nod. "I'm tough."

Sam smiled, warm and bright. "That you are, little one."

Gabriel shook his head. Hopefully this wouldn't terrify her. He turned his attention back to Sam.

"Half inch, just below the Adam's Apple?" he asked.

"Smaller," the angel replied, his voice tight and nervous.

Gabriel frowned. "How small? We can't let them detect you."

Sam turned his head aside, his lips parted. Gabriel noted a fine tremor that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Very well, then," he said. "I trust you. Take it all."

"Hey, I don't want to kill you, either," Gabriel grunted. "That'd defeat the purpose of this field trip."

"You can direct the flow," Sam answered. "My own universe's Grace should be the most stubborn and last to leave. You can balance a sliver of it upon the edge of the blade, and if you press it again to my neck, it will close the wound. Thus is the power of your soul."

Gabriel blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Your soul," Sam told him. "Human souls have power. If you direct my Grace in the manner I've indicated, the power of your soul, guided by your intention, will direct my remnant Grace to seal up the wound." He paused. "It is no different than what you did with my wi—." He cleared his throat. "In the cornfield, when you helped me."

Gabriel's brow furrowed in thought, and he wondered why they hadn't tried this supposed Soul Power thing sooner. But they didn't have time for random, stupid thoughts right now.

Sam glanced down at the blade, and back to Gabriel, and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Indeed. It is a more solid plan. Forgive my apprehension."

"Grace is part of what you are," Gabriel mused, sidling closer. "It'd be weird if you didn't feel a bit freaked out."

He reached out with one hand, pressing his fingers against Sam's long neck. He didn't feel any warmer than usual, and though he appeared in obvious distress, Gabriel didn't see any dead giveaways for infection. Yet.

"I do trust you," Sam repeated, following Gabriel's quiet movements, tilting back his head. Offering his neck. "I trust you," he repeated.

"Sati," Gabriel breathed, uncorking the vial, "keep the light right on his neck. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, too perky for the situation.

Gabriel took the edge of the archangel blade, and leaned closer, and... did he see a _scar_ already on Sam's neck from where they'd done this before? As he peered closer, he indeed saw a tiny pink line, barely there, on his neck.

A grim thought—'cut along the dotted line'—danced through his head.

One of Sam's hands rose to rest on Gabriel's hip, and the other wound around a blanket in his lap. Waiting.

Gabriel stared at the scar, and decided it would make a good guideline. He tilted his head just so, biting his lower lip as he considered how to do this.

"Here we go," he breathed.

He pressed one sharp side against Sam's skin, and at a snail's pace, slit a line across his skin. Deep enough to count, but not deep enough to maim, or god forbid, kill.

The wound bled, but violet-white light seeped out from behind it, swirling and glowing like its own tiny galaxy. Sam's neck didn't shift under his grip—didn't so much as twitch—but his fingers tightened around Gabriel's hip.

Gabriel took the vial and held it a few inches from the wound, just as Sam had instructed. At first, nothing happened, and he thought he'd done something wrong, but within seconds, a stream of violet-white Grace poured out from the wound, lining up evenly with the bottle in his hand.

There was so much of it, and Gabriel worried the bottle might not hold it all. But it just kept pouring inside, packing in on itself and adjusting, and soon only a tiny trickle of light remained. A remnant petered out from the wound, dancing along the edge of the blade.

What did not trickle out slowly was blood, which streamed down Sam's neck. The sight of it in the wake of the purple-white light came as a shock, and Gabriel had to remind himself to stay calm. He had to stem the wound.

He corked the bottle, trapping Sam's Grace inside. With the tip of the archangel blade, he wound up the tiny tendril of remaining Grace (his mind supplied the image of winding up floss sugar on a stick to make cotton candy), and pressed the flat side to the wound.

The light meandered up the blade and surrounded the wound, slipping inside and knitting it shut. Sam now had only the tiniest fraction of his own Grace inside of him, maybe the bare minimum required for him to stay alive. No Grace detector could ever find a quantity so small. He hoped.

Gabriel took a shaking breath and sat back on his heels (still careful to avoid Sam's leg), staring down. The angel's hand remained on his hip, clamped tight, his fingers trembling.

"Sam? You all right?"

As if he only just remembered he needed to breathe, Sam sucked in a deep breath of air, and lowered his head from its awkward angle. He didn't answer at first—probably couldn't—but after a good minute, he gathered himself enough to speak.

"I am well enough."

His eyes fell upon the bottle in Gabriel's hand, and Gabriel stared down, too. It shimmered and glowed, producing it's own light in the frigid darkness of the night.

"Your Grace is really pretty," Sati said, breaking the silence... but her voice strained with uncertainty and more than a bit of fear.

"It is, isn't it?" Gabriel answered her. "And we're going to take very good care of it until we can give it back to Sam, aren't we?"

He turned his head just in time to see her nod enthusiastically, her lips pulled tight in a grin. He glanced back in Sam's direction, and watched the faintest smile crease his lips.

"Thank you," he said. "Both of you."

Gabriel maneuvered himself off of Sam's warm lap (Gabriel felt so cold, and his proximity to the angel felt comfortable in all the wrong ways), and wrapped the vial in various layers. Careful to pack it tight and replace it in the glove box, he set the blade aside. He couldn't risk the blade breaking the glass. The weapon would go into the truck's lockbox in just a minute.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gabriel muttered, swiping a bottle of dusty water and an old towel.


	13. Chapter 13

Gabriel had spent his youth in huge cities, and he'd thought he'd never forget the way they never _really_ slept. Lights at all hours of the night, and if you got hungry, you could always find food somewhere. But then, he'd spent the last seventeen years in rural Kansas, in a mostly-ruined town where you couldn't even get stuff on the weekends at a good hour. He'd forgotten how a city could look at night.

Saint Louis was, remarkably, awake and active at the present hour, which shocked Gabriel at this godawful time of night. It made him wonder how much hustle and bustle the city made during the daylight.

He had trouble finding his way to the hospital, and had to stop and ask for directions. Soon, the medical center loomed up ahead, as dirty and grimy as every other building he'd seen. But they'd arrived, and he only had to drag Sam inside and proper medical care awaited.

Wheelchairs dotted the space just beyond the emergency room's doors. With no one around to complain about his parking, Gabriel hopped out of the truck, and bolted inside. One sleepy attendant manned the emergency department's desk.

"Hello," he greeted in the most uninterested voice Gabriel had _ever_ heard.

"I need to check someone in. He's outside. Are there any orderlies around who could help? He's tall, and I need to get him out of my truck."

"No orderlies," he answered, a flicker of irritation in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe someone had the gall to bother him at this hour. "We have wheelchairs outside you can use to get him in." He yawned. "Someone will come out at some point to get his details."

Gabriel frowned, a flourish of anger heating his skin. Exhaustion and pain and worry mixed together in a rotten place in his gut. It took all his willpower not to leap over the desk and smack the attendant awake.

"Thank you," he growled, and turned to the door.

"Oh, one more thing," the attendant said. "Unless this guy is legit dying when you pull him in, he'll have to wait in processing until morning."

Gabriel turned just in time to see the attendant shrug, and despite the curt tone of voice, he _did_ appear somewhat sympathetic.

"We're understaffed," he added. "Especially on the night shift."

Gabriel sighed, and decided he could live with that. He _had_ to. He hoped Sam agreed. So he nabbed a wheelchair, and returned to the truck, where he'd left Sati and Sam locked inside. After Sati unlocked the door, Gabriel struggled to get Sam out of the backseat. Unsurprisingly, the angel had no real strength without his Grace. To complicate things, getting Sam to stay upright in his wheelchair proved a challenge, almost moreso than getting him out of the truck. But pushing him around in the wheelchair? That was easy, and beat any other method they'd used to move Sam around yet.

Once inside, the attendant gave the angel an appraising once-over, and mumbled something unintelligible into his radio.

Gabriel slid a chair around to Sam's opposite side, and Sati hopped on immediately. He took up the seat opposite Sam, and so the two of them flanked the tired, injured archangel. His eyes had gone distant, his expression lax with unknowable thoughts. Though, just maybe, he seemed kind of like he might fall asleep. If only fate could be so kind to him.

"How are you doing?" Gabriel asked, voice low.

He blinked a few times, eyes focusing. "Though it sounds contradictory," he murmured, voice raw and uneven, "without my… ah… without _it_ burning in my veins, I feel somewhat better."

Excellent. Gabriel kept reminding himself of all the good things. It helped keep his mind off all the terrible ones.

They sat in silence, the only noise the beeping of far-distant equipment and the occasional hushed conversation. Gabriel glanced around the room at the other patients, and felt no small amount of surprise to see only a scant few. They sat in silence, most wound up with blankets as they shivered in the icy waiting room. They appeared as cold and unfriendly as he and Sam probably appeared.

Well, all except Sati, who radiated sunshine anywhere she went. But even she seemed a bit flummoxed by recent events, her usual chipper mood now muted. Gabriel tried to remember if she'd ever been to a big city before, except maybe the one time when she'd been two and they'd taken a trip to Oklahoma City—as if she'd remember _that_ , he thought with a shake of his head.

Right now, though, she absorbed the events unfolding around her, but she didn't look on in fear. Instead, she took it all like a pro, having gone from fast asleep to wide awake in the middle of the night with all the stamina only a seven-year-old could muster.

She sidled up between them, hovering close to Sam's side, and Gabriel belatedly realized he'd forgotten the whole point of bringing her. He'd been so worked up...

His hands still trembled. He could feel the cold steel of the archangel blade in his palm, and see Sam's eyes as he just... accepted it. He would have nightmares about how the angel offered his neck so Gabriel could cut away his Grace. He would never forget how completely he trusted Gabriel with everything.

But Sam had no choice. Without his Grace, he'd become essentially human, hadn't he? The archangel's vessel might seem large and imposing, but he remained weak and tired and all kinds of sick.

Sati wound her way against Sam's right side, her arms closing around his own. How she managed it without sitting on his broken leg was probably a miracle of modern science, way up there with how could cats fit themselves into bowls and other strange spaces.

Sam adjusted wordlessly, his arm moving to rest around her. She laid her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes.

Gabriel stared at the two of them, and found himself speechless. Of course, they'd only brought Sati in the first place so she could pretend to be Sam's daughter, because these hospitals tended to parents more often than 'unattached folk', as they'd become known. But the two pulled the image of father and daughter off well.

Maybe the image should have bothered him, but it didn't. Far from it. Gabriel had always felt like a crummy father, and known Kali could have raised her far better. Thank god for Cas, or she might not have had a decent role model at all. But Sam, this oversized angel who'd fallen out of the sky and into their lives, somehow had been perfect for this. Perfect as a father. Perfect as a guardian. If he'd been able to fly away to another world, Gabriel would have handed him Sati and begged him to keep her safe.

But that wouldn't happen, not now. Not ever.

Soft footfalls approached, and delicate and careful. Gabriel snaked an eye open to see a nurse in shifting her weight from foot to foot, staring down at Sam and Sati... who both had their eyes shut.

"Family?" she mouthed.

Gabriel nodded, leaning forward. "This is Sam... Winchester, and his daughter, Sati."

Okay, so their nearest neighbor, Dean, a guy Cas had become friends with, was actually the one with the last name of 'Winchester,' but no one here would know the difference. Gabriel had just needed a quick name to give them.

She made note of it on her clipboard, and when Sam's eyes opened, she gestured at Gabriel. He took it as a summons of sorts, and stood. He waved Sam off, and followed her down to the desk.

"The night attendant called in and said he looked awful," she said. "What's the matter?"

"His left femur is broken in at least three places, and both of the major bones of the left forearm… they're just destroyed." He paused, frowning.

She flinched, and continued to make notes.

"He had an open fracture on the leg. Uh, the local doctor tried setting the bones, but afterwards he got sick. We gave him antibiotics because we thought he might die on us. When his fever got a little lower, we packed him up and brought him here."

"This may require surgery," she said, and it sounded like a warning. "Is he otherwise in good health?"

"Yeah, he's…uh. He's in pain, but he's healthy. And we knew he probably needed surgery. It's why we drove over five hundred miles to get here, you know? I'm not trying to raise his kid."

She cut her eyes at him, sharp and disapproving, and Gabriel backpedaled.

"I mean, she's a great kid. She just needs her father, you know? Not some cousin twice removed."

The excuse sounded weak, and he knew it, but he hoped the late hour might excuse his stupidity.

"Just some more info for intake," she muttered, writing on his clipboard. "Can you give me Sam's date and place of birth?"

 _Oh, shit_. Perhaps it would have been a smart idea to, you know, have the important information ready to go when trying to pass off your angel as a human. How could he have forgotten?

"May 1983," he blurted out. "Jesus, I'm so terrible with dates, uh... maybe the second?"

She wrote it down. "We'll verify the information with him later," she said. "Place of birth?"

"Lawrence," he said. Might as well use his and Cas' info. "In Kansas."

The scratch-scratch of her pen on the paper rang clear in the quiet, large room.

"How about his fever? How has it been?"

"Scary," Gabriel answered, not sure how to explain 'overheated angel' to her.

"Payment?"

He blinked. "Cash?"

She kept writing, never missing a beat. "Occupation?"

"Farmer."

She finished whatever she needed to write with a flourish of her pen. "I'll be right back. You might want to hold the kid."

Before Gabriel could protest, she trotted off, her feet ridiculously light on the tiled floor. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, considering the possibilities of what might happen next. Would they admit him? Turn him away? Or worse, discover him?

He returned to their resting forms, and placed his arms around Sati's shoulders. Sam opened his eyes, and Sati made a noise of protest.

"He's warm," she complained.

Gabriel almost chuckled. "The nurse is coming right back to look at him. Come over here and sit with me."

Sam smiled at her, faint but warm, and shifted his arm, allowing Gabriel to pick her up and sit her upon his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck just as the nurse returned, a makeshift toolbag in hand.

"Open your mouth," she ordered, waving a thermometer. "Under the tongue."

Sam complied, and she jammed it into his mouth. Gabriel cringed in sympathy. It had looked painful. But Sam just sealed his lips around it as the woman wrapped a stethoscope around her neck.

It occurred to Gabriel the 'nurse' might actually be the doctor. Oops.

She pulled out a single, tiny sterile wipe, and Sam observed in silence as she cleaned away a small area in the crease of his right elbow.

"Any allergies?" she asked.

Sam shook his head, and Gabriel wondered how she expected him to answer so long as his mouth held the thermometer, his lips dutifully closed around the tiny stem. And, though they couldn't tell her this, Sam had never been without his Grace before, so how could he know if he had any allergies? Gabriel could only hope he didn't.

She produced a syringe. "I'm taking a sample to test for various diseases. We have a short-list of conditions which preclude admission to the hospital."

Sam stared on dispassionately, because of course he wouldn't have anything questionable. But the news itched at Gabriel's mind in all the wrong ways..

"Hey, Doctor, it's been a while since I've had to take anyone to a hospital. I thought people came here to get well?"

"We have limited resources," she replied, pressing the needle in his arm with a surprising touch of gentleness. "Only a few nurses, only a few doctors. If certain infectious diseases got loose in here, we'd have to shutter the place forever. So we don't admit anyone who has something on the shortlist."

She drew out his blood with the hands of an expert, and slid the needle free. She pressed a sterile pad to the wound, and sealed it over with surgical tape.

"What's the shortlist?" Gabriel asked, frowning, watching as she sealed up the vial of all-too-human blood.

"Syphilis," she said. "AIDS. Meningitis. Any antibacterial-resistant disease. Those sorts of things."

"So are those people just supposed to, what...?" His throat went dry, just on cusp of saying 'go fuck off and die,' but with Sati in his lap, he had to act _somewhat_ civil.

"We don't have the resources to help everyone. We're the only hospital for two hundred miles, and the only one in six hundred miles still admitting people without referrals."

Gabriel thought of asking why their tax dollars hadn't helped with such a grim situation, but she reached up and plucked the thermometer from Sam's mouth, and the opportunity to discuss it passed.

"You're unusual," she commented, holding the vial in her closed palm. "No one ever holds still while I work."

Sam said nothing, but his eyes took in her actions with an intense gaze, as though she might hold the secrets of the universe in her hand. She stared down at the thermometer, and back at Sam... _twice_.

Gabriel's heart stopped. How high had his temperature gotten? Abnormally so? Enough to give him away?

"How you feeling there, buddy?" she asked.

"Not well."

"I imagine not," she answered, and marched away without another word.

Gabriel frowned as she strolled off, his heart thundering in his chest. He wondered if they'd waited too long to remove Sam's Grace, or maybe if angels always ran so hot. And of course, they couldn't' tell a soul about Sam's angelic heritage.

Sati glanced between them, but kept quiet. Her big, brown eyes went wide in alarm, her arms tightening around Gabriel's neck.

Sam's brow furrowed, and he met Gabriel's gaze. A question formed there, one Gabriel had no idea how to answer. He hadn't been to a hospital in ages, and it had been even longer since he'd been in Saint Louis. He had no idea how things might work. Hell, they'd only taken this trip out of sheer desperation.

The doctor reappeared around the corner, this time with a guy. A nurse, maybe?

"Come on, darlin'," the man drawled, his voice thick with exhaustion. "We're taking you back."

So much for waiting until the morning, Gabriel thought. Sam's fever must have been up there.

"Sa—," Sati began, and snapped her mouth shut. "Dad? Dad, where are they taking you?"

 _Good catch_ , Gabriel thought to himself, and moved to sweep her up in his arms before she tried to crawl back on Sam's lap. She didn't weigh much, not compared to Sam, but even the slightest weight would cause his leg all kinds of agony.

"They're just taking him back to check him out," he told her. "Don't worry."

Gabriel trotted along behind the crew, and stopped just short of the nurse's station. Long ago, when hospitals stood everywhere and people considered high-tech healthcare of the utmost importance, the staff would prevent him from proceeding further. Information laws or something or another. He'd long forgotten their names, only recalling how they used to cause a giant ruckus.

Now, communication and sharing had taken the place of the carefully maintained medical record. No one had national databases anymore. If your best friend's neighbor knew you had an allergy to latex, they could save your life. Nowadays, everyone had reasons to keep a mental (or physical) note of everyone else's health issues.

"Can we go in?" Sati asked, her voice soft in his ear.

"I don't know," he began, but froze when the nurse lifted his hand, waving him inside.

"Family?" he gruffed.

"I'm his cousin," Gabriel answered. "She's his daughter."

He hummed a response, considering, and Gabriel fretted again about all the things that could go wrong.

The nurse pointed at a seat in the corner, and Gabriel sank down into it. Sati settled on his lap, looking around at the shockingly clean room. It impressed Gabriel. He didn't realize they could get rid of so much of the dust anymore.

The nurse turned his attention to Sam, setting up an IV. Wow, okay, so Gabriel didn't even know they had those anymore. Awesome. Their sick archangel needed it. Gabriel had feared saline bags and IVs had gone the way of the dinosaurs, just like most of their crops.

"Your cousin said your date of birth is May 2nd, 1983?"

Sam nodded, and only in the washed-out, white-blue fluorescent light did Gabriel see how pale he'd become. Not that he'd looked any better for the entire duration of this catastrophe, but here? Sam couldn't hide it.

"Any allergies?" he asked, repeating the doctor's earlier question.

For an instant, Gabriel worried Sam might answer with something strange and confusing, such as "I don't know." While true, it wasn't the answer a suspicious bunch of doctors would expect to hear. Gabriel wanted to pass him off as human, after all.

Sam just shook his head, lines of exhaustion etched across his face.

"Level of pain? On a scale of one to ten?"

His lips thinned, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Nine," Sam answered, his voice ridiculously calm.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought of so much pain. He'd known Sam had endured more than a little agony on the trip out there, but to hear such an honest answer made him shudder.

The nurse cut his eyes at him. "A ten being the worst you've ever felt?"

Sam stared up in plain annoyance, pale and sweating and so, so weak. He _looked_ like a nine.

"On one occasion, I nearly died. I feel worse now than then."

Gabriel flinched, and held Sati tighter. She just stared on, quiet, unmoving, and unnaturally calm. Calmer than Gabriel felt, anyway.

"Where do you feel pain?"

Sam's frown deepened. "Everywhere. My bones ache, and my blood feels like fire." He paused. "None worse than my leg. I'd cut it from my body if I thought the pain would cease."

The doctor had moved down to his leg, peeling away a matted layer of cloth. Sam hissed at the intrusion, grimacing down at her.

"Oh man," she breathed, staring at the re-opened fracture wound. "You've got one hell of a pain tolerance, my friend. I can't believe you're not howling right now."

"It is rather difficult not to," he answered. His voice lowered, and he leaned forward just a fraction, turning his head towards the doctor. "But I do not wish to frighten my little one."

"Ever had morphine before?" she asked.

"Yes, though I am afraid to report it helps little."

She smiled, faint and somewhat disingenuous. Just doing her job, it seemed. "You'll find what we have here is stronger than the medicine they sell out there."

He considered it, and nodded. "I shall take your word for it."

His voice sounded rough as gravel, as if forcing his voice to work through a terrible bout of bronchitis. It showed, too, in the way they treated him.

"Ever had any form of pneumonia before?" she asked, her hands wandering down to prod at his femur. "Dust pneumonia? Any sort of silicosis?"

She glanced over to Gabriel, and he prepared to rattle off an answer when Sam interrupted.

"No, though since I've been injured, I've had trouble breathing at times."

She dipped her head, frowning down at him. She remained silent a long while, moving instead to check him with a surprising amount of thoroughness.

"Well, Sam," she said, standing upright, "you seem like a strong guy. We're going to admit you and do some scans of your leg and arm. See if we can help put you back together."

He nodded, and she crossed her arms. Something bothered her, and the notion made Gabriel's heart skip and stutter.

"You know, it's hard to break a femur. How did you manage it?"

"I fell," he answered.

"You're a big, strong guy. You could handle quite a fall. Your tibia should have broken."

"I fell off a barn roof," he improvised with unnatural calm. "I attempted on instinct to reach out and break my fall, but... such action turned out unwise. I only injured myself further."

She nodded, and the crease of confusion on her brow subsided, though at a slow rate. Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

The staff, as it turned out, kept the hospital both cleaner and dirtier than Gabriel had imagined—though, in all honesty, he hadn't known exactly _what_ to expect. He remembered hospitals in his youth as pristine and blindingly white in every direction, the scent of disinfectant and antiseptic stinking in his nose.

The staff kept this hospital clean-ish, with only a light coating of dust. Some rooms, however, remained absolutely pristine. The inside of an examination room (which did not become Sam's final destination, surprisingly) had been spotless. Gabriel wagered the inside of the operating room and any chamber housing specialized equipment had to stay immaculate. After all, they had to keep dust out of wounds _and_ fragile equipment, right?

He refitted Sam with a hospital gown, as thin and indecent as Gabriel remembered. Even the garment felt starchy and fresh.

The nurse assigned to his room had bounced around, giddy about the prospect of helping Sam out of his worn clothing. In turn, the archangel seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole affair. Gabriel couldn't stand the idea of the nurse changing his clothes with such an excited glimmer in her eye, so he waved her off and helped Sam himself.

Because it was so much more _pure_ for him to do it, rather than Sam. It wasn't as if Gabriel nursed a secret love for the archangel, or anything.

He told himself Sam would feel more comfortable with Gabriel's help, and the angel would be. Gabriel had already seen Sam naked plenty of times. And perhaps Sam had become used to Gabriel's help in those sorts of things.

In any case, Sam thanked him, and Gabriel helped him back to the bed. Sati sat wordlessly in a nearby chair, at least until Sam settled into his bed. She hopped to her feet, hovering just next to Sam's right side.

"Can I get in bed with you?" she asked, quiet and hopeful.

Gabriel said "no" at the same time Sam said "yes," and the two men shared a conflicted glance.

"Sati," Gabriel elaborated, "the doctors and nurses will drag Sam all over the place. We need to let him rest."

"But, but, I can stay quiet and he could rest, right?"

Gabriel frowned, glancing back at Sam. "I don't think he—."

"I do not mind," Sam interrupted, and in his eyes Gabriel thought he saw a sort of a plea, though didn't quite know what Sam asked of him.

The angel hesitated. "Please?"

"You _want_ her crawling all over you?" he asked in open astonishment. "You're all busted up, Sam."

Sam seemed to retract in on himself, as if he thought he'd overstepped somehow. After a moment of hesitation, he elaborated.

"I... I do not enjoy feeling alone," he said. "When you and Sati are with me, I feel like I am home."

Well, fuck. He would have to go and word it exactly like _that_. Gabriel chalked it up to the drugs they'd given him, because surely, Sam would never ever call their dusty little universe home, would he?

But there was a request there, one for closeness and familiarity and kindness, and this universe-traveling archangel had found it in the affection of a little girl who loved too hard and cried too easily.

Both of them were too good for this dying, dusty deathtrap of a world.

If it killed Gabriel, he would find a way to send the both of them somewhere safe.

Gabriel turned to Sati, lifting her by the waist and setting her down on the edge of the bed, just over the railing.

"Be careful," he ordered. "Remember his left side is all broken up."

She nodded. "I know. I promise."

He let go, and she at once set about snuggling up to Sam's side. He lifted his right arm to make room, and when she'd moved into a comfortable place, he rested it lightly on her back.

A sigh of relief left passed his lips, and when he glanced at Gabriel, incalculable gratitude shone in his eyes.

Gabriel had no idea what to do with that. The sight of the two of them—lost, doomed spirits, clinging together in companionship and love—had his stomach in this throat, tingling. It felt dangerously like hope, like maybe the world itself still had a chance. It made Gabriel's heart stutter in his chest, and tears sting at his eyes. A strange sort of smile set upon his lips; not cheerful, but... hopeful.

Or perhaps regretful. All of them would face their end by either dust or blight, and neither of the two souls in front of him deserved it.

He sank down in a chair poised at the edge of the window, staring on at the two in something akin to wonder. Oh, if only the world hadn't spiraled into a deadly curse. If only things were different. If only, if only.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut, and for a time, he seemed to sleep along with Sati. At the sight, a tiny smile warmed Gabriel lips. He could keep watch over them, and pretend he could protect them from the horrors of the world.

Some time later, an hour, perhaps, a nurse shuffled inside. She had a kind and gentle nature about her, and Gabriel liked her the moment he set eyes on her.

"Sorry to wake everyone up," she murmured, "but we're taking him back for x-rays. We need to clean him up."

Gabriel blinked a few times, tired, and nodded. "Can't risk scratching up the equipment, I bet."

She nodded as Gabriel rose to his feet. He moved to shake Sati and Sam awake, but stared down to find Sam with his eyes already open. Heavy and drowsy, but open.

He reached just over the rail and disentangled Sati from Sam. She didn't stir, not quite, but she made a displeased noise as Gabriel lifted her from the bed. As he held her, she readjusted against his shoulder, and slipped back into oblivion.

Gabriel held her tight as they wheeled away Sam's bed.

* * *

An extraordinary amount of time passed.

Gabriel had dozed off along with Sati at some point, and when the morning sunlight awoke him, he frowned at the distinct lack of Sam in their room. Sure, okay, he hadn't expected them to be exactly snappy about it, but it had been what, five hours?

Sunrise had come and gone, and... wow, the clock couldn't have inched much past eight, right? He stared out the window at the sun's position in the sky, and nodded to himself, guessing the time at eight o'clock in the morning. He never slept so late.

Then again, he'd driven all day, had a throbbing headache, and had run himself into the ground with exhaustion. And the day before, he'd gotten his head knocked in, and hadn't slept much for pain and worrying half to death about Sam and Sati.

All of this might explain how the time had slipped away from him, but did nothing to explain the lack of Sam in the room.

He considered leaving Sati on the chair, where she could curl up and stay asleep. Someone had draped a blanket over the both of them at some point, so Gabriel tucked it around her and stood, making his way out the door.

In the daylight, the hospital bustled with more activity. So much louder. More unruly. He didn't think he liked the place so much, but considering this was literally the only hospital for hundreds of miles, he couldn't relocate Sam to another one.

He made his way to the nurses station, dodging jogging orderlies and other staff. Sati rustled in his arms, displeased with the movement and noise.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, zero recognition in his voice.

"Yes, we're in the room down the hall, and—."

"Is there a problem?" he interrupted. Apparently, the nurse's shift either had him short on sleep, annoyed, or both, and it took a ridiculous amount of effort not to snark right back at him.

"They took my cousin out of the room last night for x-rays. We fell asleep at some point, but he isn't back, and it's been hours."

"Name?"

"Winchester," Gabriel recited. "Sam."

The man turned to a stainless steel sorter, which held countless manilla folders. Wow. Gabriel remembered the good old days when computers did all the paperwork.

"Ah, yeah, here he is. They took him for x-rays at about two last night. Femoral fracture in four places, but the interesting part was his ulna. It had _really_ shattered, and—." His lips quirked upwards in a half-interested smile, but when he caught Gabriel's concerned stare, he cleared his throat, expression turned grim and serious. "Um. He was pretty bad off, you know? The radiologist recommended immediate surgery, so the night surgeon took his case. They should be done, like, anytime, though."

Gabriel blinked. And blinked again.

"They took him into surgery?" he repeated, voice flat. "Already?"

"Yeah. The doctor on duty was really worried about his fever. Said he might become septic if they didn't hurry. Oh, septic means—."

Gabriel cut him off with a wave of a hand. "I know what it means." He paused. "It's… bad."

Any other time, he might try to school the nurse for being such an ass, but the shock of the situation had reduced Gabriel to the most simplistic of answers. He couldn't manage a response more complicated than 'that's bad.'

And what if it'd gone wrong? What if Sam needed his Grace to survive it? What if the archangel died because he had placed his trust in Gabriel?

"Hey man, they'll come and talk to you when he's out," the nurse said, his voice finally easing up. "Doctor Richardson was our head surgeon last night. She's the best, let me tell you. She's fantastic. She's like... well, they need someone exceptional to put on the night shift, right? Someone who can do the job of five surgeons? Well, she's the one. She graduated from Yale. She's the best we've got."

Strangely, the knowledge _did_ make Gabriel feel somewhat better. Knowing someone talented had taken on the job helped.

"Is there a surgical waiting room, or...?"

"They use the E.R. downstairs if the patient doesn't have a room," he told him. "But since he already has a bed, they'll go there to give news. They know families wait and all, so... And they'll take you and the kid to post-op." He paused, frowning. "Well, maybe not the kid. They don't allow visitors under thirteen unless it's dire."

Sati shifted in his arms, and Gabriel squeezed her tighter.

"Thank you," he breathed, but all he didn't feel any gratitude at all. He only felt shell-shock, stone-heavy and cold in his limbs. It clouded and darkened his mind.

He made his way back down the hallway, back into the tiny room they'd quartered off for Sam. He pushed the door shut behind him, and sank back down in the chair with Sati.

Gabriel felt like he'd screwed up. He was supposed to stay on top of these things, and to know all the details. Instead, he'd let them wheel Sam away and into surgery while he'd snoozed. How could he be so careless?

He shook his head. Self-reproach and personal angst had no place here, not right now. After all, it had been his idea to take Sam to the hospital, and nothing unusual or unexpected had happened yet. X-Rays. Surgery. The worry over septic infection—which had been why Gabriel dragged him all the way out there. The hospital had unique qualifications to help with those things.

He sat in silence for a while, his fingers strumming light on Sati's dark hair as he considered their predicament. What would he tell someone else in his situation?

Rest. Or at least try to.

He leaned back in the chair, which in a long-past life might have been a recliner. He shut his eyes. He could serve Sam best by staying well-rested.


	14. Chapter 14

He did manage to doze, but every slight noise roused him.

Not long after he'd returned to the room, the nurse he'd spoken to at the station slipped inside with two breakfast trays obviously meant for patients. He acted polite and courteous, and Gabriel figured he probably wanted to make up for being such an ass earlier.

Sati woke up, oblivious to all but the food in front of her. She seemed satisfied with Gabriel's quick explanation of Sam in surgery, and even knowing how big of a deal it could be, she didn't get overly frustrated like Gabriel had. She remembered what Gabriel had trouble holding onto: it's why they came here.

Gabriel picked at his own food, unable to stomach much. After Sati had finished eating and fallen back asleep, he shut his eyes and tried to rest again. He _tried_. In the end, he settled for sitting quietly with his eyes closed, trying to keep from imagining all the worst scenarios. After all, Sam had serious, life-threatening injuries. The magnitude of his condition had kept him confined to a bed for almost four months. And in that time, he'd only healed somewhat, and only because of angelic power driving it. And Sam had even died once. Pseudo-died.

Though he doubted it felt like a pseudo-death to Sam. The archangel had been clear; the experience of dying terrified him. And Gabriel couldn't imagine the horror he must have experienced every single time he went through it. What would it do to someone to become so ill they went through a terrifying cycle of pseudo-death and resurrection, all with the knowledge that each time might be the last time?

But it gave Sam a grim sort of hope; a safety blanket of sorts. And since Gabriel had drained the Grace right out of Sam, he'd had that guarantee removed. Cut away. Only the tiniest sliver of his own Grace remained inside him, and it wouldn't protect him this time.

Gabriel hoped Sam hadn't misplaced his trust in him.

He could only wait. And wait. How long did surgery take, anyway? For a broken leg and a broken forearm? And yet, Gabriel had been there from the beginning, and knew exactly how badly the fall into their world had injured him. The first time he'd tried to assess Sam's forearm, it had felt crumbly, like dust. Broken in so many places. And his leg had worried him most of all.

After several minutes of trying to reason with himself to just rest already, he heard the door creak. He cracked open an eye to see a woman standing just inside, in surgical scrubs and a bloody apron. She didn't appear the least bit gloomy, and Gabriel's heart leapt.

"Hi," she greeted, taking a few steps closer. "I'm Doctor Amelia Richardson."

"The surgeon," Gabriel said, hopeful.

She nodded. "I operated on your cousin."

Gabriel set Sati down in the seat, tucking the blanket around her and approaching, his voice low. "Is he... Is Sam okay?"

"Just fine," she said, smiling. "Tough cousin you've got there. The chart says he fell off the roof of a barn?"

He nodded, his limbs numb, his stomach done up in knots.

"Must have been a tall barn. Can't believe it didn't kill him," she breathed, shaking her head. "So, we've set the bones in his leg and gave him a sturdy splint. When the wound closes up he needs a solid cast. "The doctor who did the cast on his forearm did well, so when you take him home, I'd see them again."

Gabriel thought about telling her he'd made the last cast, but thought better of it. Not the point right now.

"I've prescribed high doses of antibiotics for the next few days, but I think unless someone gets careless, the threat of septic infection has passed. He's going to feel out of it until we discharge him, but so far as his bones go, he'll recover."

Gabriel exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd held.

"There is, however, another problem."

His eyes fluttered shut, and he wanted to curse the universe. Of fucking course. Nothing could ever go smoothly, could it?

But his irritation grew into fear, stone-heavy and cold in his gut. What if they'd discovered Sam's angelic origin?

"His lungs worry me," she said. "I had a CT scan done, and he's got all the classic signs of early silicosis. Silica grains have embedded in the filia of his lungs, and the body has responded. His lungs are inflamed. It's why his voice has become so raspy and thin."

Gabriel grimaced. That wasn't good. Not at all. They had no cure for silicosis, for dust pneumonia. Everyone knew that.

"He's breathing oxygen right now," she said. "We're going to keep it on him while he's here. I recommend he stay on it, and if you can get your hands on it, something to improve his inflammation."

He considered her words carefully. "How bad is it? He hasn't been coughing for long..."

She sighed. "You know how dust pneumonia works by now, right?"

Gabriel frowned. "Just... how bad?"

She crossed her arms, her eyes downcast, and shook her head. "If he has an oxygen mask and proper medication, I think his lungs might have a few more years."

The lines of his face twisted, and he had to remind himself they'd have Sam's Grace back back inside him within days, and all this wouldn't give him trouble anymore. He'd figure out a way to fix his Grace, and he'd stay impervious to all of this.

"He's in post-op now," she told him. "Do you want to go see him?"

Gabriel's wanted to shout 'yes', but he glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping daughter, and….

"The nurse will keep an eye on her," the surgeon said. "She'll be okay."

Gabriel frowned, but relented. The nurse _had_ been sticking his head in quite often.

He followed her down the hallways, considering Sam's condition on the way. The worst of it had passed, he told himself. The chance of the angel meeting a horrible end from infection had gone, so long as they kept him medicated. Gabriel tried hard not to think of things like antibiotic-resistant infections, or, just as bad, the encroaching suffocation of dust pneumonia.

It seemed like a maze, like every other hospital he'd ever been inside. And when they finally arrived, Gabriel knew he'd have to ask for directions to get back. But when he saw Sam, all thoughts of returning evaporated away.

He seemed asleep, or nearly so, his eyes shut. His head moved, just slightly, and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. Gabriel approached him, flustered and careful, unsure of what to do. And for a long time, he didn't have to do anything, because Sam didn't awaken. He sank into a chair beside Sam's bed.

But slowly, the angel became aware of the world again. A groan from his parted lips alerted Gabriel, and he leapt to his feet. Sam's brow furrowed, his eyes screwed shut in pain, and he reached up with his good arm, tugging at the oxygen mask.

Gabriel pulled at his wrist, gentle and careful. "No, Sam," he breathed, his other hand resting on the angel's shoulder. "You can't do that. You need it to breathe."

Sam muttered something wholly unintelligible, but he stopped trying to rip the mask away. Gabriel laid his arm back down on the bed, tucking the blanket around him.

The staff had kept the recovery room exceptionally clean. They'd cleaned Sam to a level Gabriel had never seen him. They'd gathered his long hair in a surgical cap, and scrubbed all the dust from his skin. He smelled like antiseptic. They'd done much better than anything Gabriel had managed so far.

Sam gargled again, and Gabriel wondered if he might be trying to talk, or just trying to breathe. But maybe the drugs drowned his senses so much that speaking had become impossible.

"Don't try to talk," he told him, just in case. He hesitated, then touched his forehead, flattening his palm there. His thumb stroked a strand of hair which had fallen out of his cap. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here. Sati is down the hall. You're okay, Sam."

Sam stilled under his touch, so long as Gabriel kept whispering to him.

* * *

Sam's recovery would take a while, but he would not spend this time in the hospital.

They'd been clear about their need for space from the beginning. As soon as they knew for certain Sam would escape septic infection, they'd write out a prescription for Gabriel to fill at the hospital pharmacy and kick them out. And Gabriel understood, he really did.

But still. It had been nearly a day, and Sam had not woken up, and his breathing had become worse than ever. The hospital wouldn't touch dust pneumonia. No point in wasting their resources on something incurable, right? It made Gabriel bitter to think about it.

But he had to admit, the drugs they _did_ had him dosed up on were impressive. A human Sam's size would be hard to drug into unconsciousness, but add in the angelic component, and...

But without most of his Grace, wasn't he just as easy to subdue and as vulnerable as a human? But he didn't like to think about Sam as vulnerable or weak. It didn't seem fitting.

When Sam woke up, _really_ woke up, for the first time, Gabriel had realized he had his hands full with a panicked archangel.

"Calm down," he told Sam. "You're okay. I know you feel heavy and weird, but it's the medicine. You're fine."

His breathing continued to worsen, and he stared up at Gabriel, eyes misty and bloodshot.

"Take it easy," Gabriel repeated, and placed his hand on Sam's chest. "You're drugged. It's hard to think. It's hard to breathe. It's hard to move. Don't panic, Sam. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."

He tried to talk, but Gabriel shook his head, placing his fingers lightly over the mask.

"Don't," he cautioned. "Try not to speak."

Without thinking, his hand reached for Sam, palm flattening on his forehead, bushing loose hair from his face. Sam's eyes fluttered shut, and tears squeezed out from behind the closed lids. But he seemed to still, just a little.

Gabriel reached for a cloth, wiping at his face. "It's okay," he breathed. "You're okay. You did great in surgery, kiddo. Those bones of yours are going to heal up just fine."

Sam's eyes slowly opened, and he met Gabriel's gaze. God. It looked like he wanted to talk, so much.

"Shh," he preemptively shushed him. "Just relax. We're here. Sati's asleep over there. You did good. You're fine. Just try and sleep as much as you can, okay?"

Sam made a noise, half-anguished and choked with the heaving of his breath. More tears snaked down his face.

"Are you in pain?" Gabriel asked him.

Sam shook his head, and another sound, dangerously like a whine, sounded in his throat.

"Breathing okay? Okay enough?"

Sam nodded. More tears.

Gabriel wiped at them, careful not to chap the skin of his cheeks. He searched his mind, trying to figure out what might have Sam so upset. But maybe it _all_ distressed him. Maybe being without his Grace, painful and poisonous as it had become, frightened him.

"Feeling overwhelmed?" he asked. "Without... you know."

Sam looked like he might sob, and nodded. Gabriel's chest lurched at the sight, and he found himself stroking Sam's hair. The angel shut his eyes, exhaling as he did so, as though the gesture gave him some relief.

"Hey," Gabriel told him. "You're not going to die. You're doing great. You're past the risk of infection unless you manage to re-break your leg somehow... and we're not going to let that happen, are we?"

Sam didn't seem so certain, but he shook his head. More tears snaked from his eyes, and Gabriel carefully wiped at those, too. Gabriel's hand lowered to Sam's cheek, because hell, the angel needed some comfort right now, and he was too selfish not to give it.

"I promise you," Gabriel murmured, voice soft, "I will watch over you until you're a big strong angel again, okay? I won't let anything happen to you. You're going to stay with us, and eat Cas' food, and listen to Sati's stories, and I'll bother you with my science experiments, okay? Equal opportunity bothering all around."

Sam's eyes slid shut, and a smile began to warm his lips, pained, but real. Gabriel stroked the swell of a cheekbone with his thumb.

"Now tell me the truth," he said. "You're not pain-free, are you?"

Sam's eyes opened, slow and drowsy, but he didn't respond.

"Come on, Sam," Gabriel told him. "You'll be safe. I'll stay here with you while you sleep."

After several moments of hesitation, the angel finally shook his head.

Gabriel patted his cheek. "I'll get the nurse."

Sam made a noise of protest, his working hand reaching for Gabriel. It missed, but he managed to weakly grasp the hem of his shirt.

"I'll come right back, I promise," he told him. "And I'll sit right here with you until you're asleep."

Reluctantly, slowly, his fingers released Gabriel's shirt.

* * *

Sam's agony seemed to morph into something even more horrible, as though despair had swallowed him whole. Gabriel didn't know what to make of it, and had no idea how, or even if, he could help.

It wasn't that Gabriel didn't understand it. Sam dealt with a rotten situation, after all. It was a strange universe Sam had fallen into, and a doomed one. He'd been ill for months, lost literal limbs, and he now had no hope of escaping to better circumstances. And Sam had been sick because of his Grace for a long while, with all the traveling he did. But for a far longer period of time—most of his life, Gabriel remembered—he'd been a powerful archangel. One of the most fearsome things in his own universe.

And now he'd become powerless, wracked with pain, and dependant upon mere mortals for help.

As Gabriel kept a vigil by his bedside, leaving only when Sati needed food, he tried to ponder the archangel's predicament as best as he could. But try as he might, he couldn't draw any sort of parallel. Gabriel had never held an angel's power, and so he didn't know how it might feel to have the power to affect life and death on such a scale.

Sam had periods of wakefulness, drowsy as he was under the influence of the powerful medicines he took. He spoke little, but he had no more outbursts of tears as he'd had before. His mood seemed to lift only when Sati crawled into the bed with him, talking about stories and school projects and holidays in his ear.

Of course she would remember the holidays. Only a few weeks remained until Thanksgiving, and another month until Christmas. Magical times all around for a little kid.

Once while she slept, Sam's eyes stared through the ceiling as though he could see the sky. Those sorts of lifeless stares alarmed Gabriel, because he'd seen more than one person in the leadup to death hallucinating any and all things, including angels and Heaven.

"Sam?" he breathed, voice soft. When the angel didn't respond, Gabriel scooted closer, his hand clamping on his shoulder, shaking gently. "Samael!"

He blinked, long and slow, and turned his gaze upon Gabriel, but said nothing.

"You all right there, kiddo? Come on, I need you to talk to me."

Sam exhaled, the most anguished noise Gabriel had heard pass his lips yet. His eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, Gabriel thought he would ignore him again.

"Forgive me," he finally answered. "I find I am experiencing difficulty in expressing myself adequately."

Gabriel squeezed his shoulder, gentle but firm. "I just need to know you're not dying on us, kiddo. You don't have to recite the Bhagavad Gita."

"I could, once," he said, his eyelids twitching. "It seems so long ago, but once I could. I knew it all, word for word. I knew each word of every book ever written. No longer. I am forgetting many things I've always known" His eyes opened, and they held so much exhaustion it made Gabriel ache to see them. "I would be grateful for something to focus my mind upon, but I cannot remember any of it."

"Yeah, I can't recite it either," Gabriel answered, his great attempt at humor. "I read it once, a long time ago. Can't remember a thing." He shrugged. "Guess it makes us alike, eh?"

Sam's lips quirked, just the tiniest bit. He sighed, a rumble of his crackling lungs in the air. "I'm hardly a person," he breathed. "I'm hardly an angel. I am like both, and yet neither." His tired eyes met Gabriel's. "What does that make me?"

Gabriel squeezed his shoulder again. "It makes you Sam." He paused. " _Samael_." He sighed, forcing himself to retract his hand before he got too touchy-feely. "You don't have to try so hard to be a human or an angel. You're just you."

Sam stared up at him, clearly growing more tired by the moment. He said nothing, but the tired lines of his face relaxed in something akin to acknowledgement. Gabriel patted his arm.

"Just try to rest, kiddo," he said. "You don't have to solve these mysteries tonight."

His eyes darkened, but he nodded.

* * *

It took another two days for the hospital to discharge Sam. Gabriel felt kind of glad they didn't have to stay longer, yet irritated because it had absolutely not been long enough. Back in the day, Sam would probably have been discharged earlier, after some sort of arthroscopic surgery. The end of the world, however, really put a cork in the convenient stuff of the past.

It wasn't enough time because Sam's breathing kept getting worse, bad enough to frighten Gabriel. But the hospital wouldn't touch disorders of the lungs, because everyone had them and they just continued to get worse as the dust kept blowing.

Silicosis. Dust pneumonia. Two words for the same thing. And no cure.

He needed to get Sam out of town, and away from any prying eyes, and put his Grace back inside, and fast. Somewhere quiet and abandoned.

The angel didn't complain as Gabriel and two nurses helped maneuver him up and into the backseat of the truck. He didn't complain when Gabriel stopped off to bargain for medicine and supplies at a local market. He didn't say much about anything. He sat quietly in the backseat and endured it all.

Sati stayed with him, talking the whole time, and it probably helped. It wore on Gabriel's nerves, but it seemed to pleasantly distract Sam.

Gabriel hated stopping off at the local marketplace (the setup reminded him of an old fashioned flea market more than anything), but couldn't afford to miss the opportunity. Only a fool would come all the way to place like Saint Louis and not stock up while they had the chance. But while he needed more time to search for scraps and tools, he couldn't afford to gamble with Sam's health. So he found and bought essentials and medicines as fast as he could, and booked it back to the truck. When Sam got better, they'd come back.

When. Not if. Gabriel would ensure Sam got better.

Leaving Saint Louis, however, presented far more of a challenge than getting there.

The road he'd taken in had gotten blocked off from their side of town. Someone told him a crazy story about something god-awful happening a few miles down the way, so it meant he either had to take the truck off-road—usually a terrible idea, as he'd discovered once before—or find an entirely new path back to Kansas.

He'd had to rack his brain for possible routes, and in the end, gave up and took the old Interstate.

Just as Cas had predicted, the elements had left the road pock-marked and scarred, with some portions of the road washed away entirely. Gabriel wished fervently he'd had some other path available, because all the bumps and uneven surfaces didn't do any good for Sam's leg.

The angel sat in the backseat, quiet but growing increasingly distressed. He talked with Sati, and responded to Gabriel's attempts at conversation, but as time passed, he talked less and less. And they still weren't comfortably far enough away from Saint Louis for Gabriel to attempt anything to do with Grace.

But a new situation cropped up, and had Gabriel staring warily at the sky. There had, for a while, been a pleasant westward tailwind following them out of the city. But the pleasant wind kept picking up, and picking up, until gusts would shake the truck just so. And while Gabriel couldn't see over the mountains behind him, he knew in his bones a dust storm raged behind them. And with the wind blowing in their direction, it would catch up. Damn things popping up without any warning...

And worse, it was late, and their daylight faded by the minute. Gabriel had spent so much time navigating the damaged and broken road he'd not made much progress at all. Too far from home, and too far to return to Saint Louis. They'd have to burrow down and ride the storm out.

The sky hazed over ahead of him. With a frown, he knew his prediction had been correct: they had a storm catching up to them, and fast. He took the truck slowly off the battered interstate, navigating through sand and dirt to take them far off the roadway. He didn't want to risk some idiot yahoo following the road, only to strike them in the middle of the road.

He parked the truck and cut the exterior lights, throwing an apologetic glance back at Sam. But in the meantime, it gave him an opportunity to give the angel his medicine, and return his Grace.

A lot of rotten things could happen out here on the road. He'd managed to get them all the way to Saint Louis without incident, but it had been one hell of a drive… and not to mention the weather had cooperated. He'd known getting back home, even if he successfully drugged Sam up, would be hell. No one felt awesome after major surgery.

"Stay in the truck," he told Sati.

He scooted out the driver's side door and shut it behind him, moving to hop up onto the truck's bed. He double checked the straps on all their supplies, and pulled a tarp from the toolbox to cover everything, just for occasions like this.

He coughed in the thick air, wishing he'd put a mask on first. But he knew he didn't have much time. The sky had gone from mostly clear to hazy in mere minutes, so he had to hurry. Everything stayed in the bed of the truck, all except for water and medicine. He couldn't chance either one freezing, or their containers getting pelted to shreds.

He clambered back into the driver's seat, wiping at his stinging eyes. Aside from the wind and the sounds of dust pelting against the truck, the cabin remained eerily silent.

"Hey, no worries, gang," he told them, clearing his throat. "We've ridden out a ton of dust storms in this truck, haven't we?"

Sati grinned at him in the fading light, and nodded. She didn't seem worried.

"I haven't," Sam helpfully added.

"Well then, kiddo, you're about to get your first lesson," Gabriel replied, grinning the brightest fake grin he could muster. "It won't be the last dust storm we ride out in this tin can."

In the shadows, Gabriel had difficulty making out his expression. But Gabriel thought he spied something dark beneath the humor; something grim and frightened.

Well. Time to do something. With a jingling of keys, he unlocked the glove box, and pulled free the vial of Grace. As he unwrapped the glassware, light softly spilled into the cabin, swirling and beautiful inside its confinement. Under his microscope, when exposed to his equipment, Gabriel could see all the constituent pieces of Grace. Right now, though, it just appeared white, like glimmering smoke inside the tiny vial.

He crawled over the hump of the seat, careful not to fall or tip over. He didn't think Sam would much appreciate him falling on his broken leg.

"Ready?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Indeed."

Gabriel cast a glance at Sati, who had pressed up against the back of the front seat. She laid her chin on the back of her hands, her eyes darting up at Gabriel, watching intently.

He sighed, and turned back to the bottle, uncorking it and moving to hold it close to Sam's mouth.

Nothing happened.

Gabriel blinked. He checked the bottle to make sure nothing blocked the flow of Grace, and held it up to Sam's mouth once more. And again, nothing happened.

Sam's brow furrowed in the dim light, his eyes trained upon the bottle. "I do not understand."

"Me neither," Gabriel answered, quickly corking the bottle. "I don't get it. It should have worked. It's your Grace, after all." He frowned, staring down at it. "Can't you command it?"

Sam seemed confused. "If it is not from this universe or my own, it does not listen to me."

Sam had told him this many times, and Gabriel had taken it into account during his many experiments. He'd stared at alien Grace for weeks now, trying to understand how it worked, how to separate one part from another. He'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to separate out Sam's native Grace and the energy which seeped in from their universe. Hopefully, one wouldn't hurt the other.

Gabriel's heart _dropped_.

"Oh my god," he breathed. "It's not going to go back in. It's all from other universes, and… and it's not like Grace here. None of it wants to go back in."

The angel's brow furrowed once more, but slow as syrup, faded into grim realization.

"But any angel can absorb Grace not their own," he argued.

"Yeah, but… oh Jesus Christ, I can't believe I didn't think of this." Gabriel paused, taking a moment to shut his eyes and tamp down on the panic he felt rising in his throat. "The Grace from other universes isn't like Grace here. It's more chaotic, and it doesn't move in an orderly fashion. And governed by the rules of this universe, it won't act like Grace now."

Sam frowned, staring down at the bottle. He didn't panic, not like Gabriel. He just seemed tired. Resigned.

"Put it away for safekeeping," he said, voice soft. "For when you succeed in your experiments, you can return the portion of Grace belonging to my universe."

He didn't know if Sam actually believed what he said. If he did, he gave Gabriel far too much credit, what with his dingy basement and old equipment and zero ideas.

Sam's hand closed over his own, and Gabriel realized he'd started to shake.

"You could not have known," Sam told him. "I would have died, even with my Grace within me, if you had not taken me to the hospital. And remember, I am not entirely without Grace. I yet have a tiny sliver of my own, and this universe's Grace will eventually gather around it to fortify me."

But Gabriel didn't hear his words. He heard the moistness in Sam's voice, and the choking rasp of his breath. In his head, he feared he'd killed Sam. Everything he'd tried to do to help the wayward archangel had ended here, with a careless mistake that would kill him. Sam wouldn't—couldn't—survive without it. Not long term. Not unless he gathered new Grace at lightning speed, and they already knew he couldn't.

Gabriel shut his eyes, steeling himself. He couldn't freak out, not with Sati there with them.

He turned his eyes on the bottle again. Think, he told himself. Think.

"I shall be fine," Sam told him.

Hah. So the victim thanked the guy who'd screwed him over?

He pocketed the bottle of Grace, his fingers closing instead around bottles of medicine. Until he figured out something better, he had to hope medicine could help. He had to.

* * *

In the darkness of the night, the storm only got worse. Gusts shook the truck. Gabriel hoped to god this storm passed by the morning.

The cabin had grown cold. Freezing, actually, but it was just the time of year for such frigid nights. He'd given his blanket to Sam, and held Sati in his arms in the front seat, wrapped tight in her own blanket.

And he listened, as the hours ticked on, as Sam's breathing grew worse. The storm didn't help matters. Gabriel had to do something, but what?

At one point, with a flashlight in his mouth, he'd fished out a needle and syringe full of dexamethasone. When he turned the light on Sam, he sat in the backseat, eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead.

"I… I am fine," he rasped.

"The hell you are," Gabriel answered, reaching up to tilt Sam's head.

He allowed Gabriel easy access, exposing his neck and pulse point to Gabriel. Carefully, expertly, he inserted the needle.

Sam winced, but mostly held still. "What are you giving me?" he rasped.

"Dexamethasone, or dex, for short," he said. "When people still went mountain climbing, they used it above a certain altitude to keep from getting cerebral edema. But it also has some use in treating symptoms of dust pneumonia."

He pulled the syringe free, capping it for its next use.

He could hear Sati stirring in the front seat, and he turned to see her eyes peeking over the edge of the seat.

"Are you cold?" she asked, her brown eyes settling on Sam.

He offered her a weak smile. "No. Do not worry. I merely have a fever. It will pass."

She frowned, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "I had the flu three times. It wasn't fun at all."

"I imagine not," Sam answered.

"Sati," Gabriel cautioned, his voice soft. "Let's not bother Sam."

Her eyes flitted up to him. "But if he's cold, then why don't we all get into the backseat and keep warm? We can share our blankets."

"Sam's leg, sweetheart," Gabriel told her. "We can't move him."

"We can sit in the floorboard. I'm small enough."

Gabriel didn't think _he_ would fit, and... wait, why was he thinking of this at all? Of course they couldn't all crawl back there.

"I am agreeable," Sam hummed.

"It's all right, Sam," Gabriel told him. "Really."

"No," he argued. "I am sincere. If the both of you could rest comfortably in such a position, I would welcome the extra heat."

Oh, lord. Gabriel wasn't strong enough to say no to that.

He slid down into the hollow dip, pleased to find he could _just_ fit. He motioned to Sati, who clambered over the front seat and settled in his lap, blanket and all.

He had to admit: it _was_ warmer. Part of his torso pressed up against Sam's, while Sati brought her own heat—and blanket—to his aid. He'd been shivering up in the front seat, but this way, he might just get some rest.

Sam's warmth didn't hurt. Not at all. Gabriel tried to ignore how much he wanted to enjoy the it.

Sam sighed, one long arm wrapping around Gabriel's shoulders, his broad hand coming to rest just on Sati's shoulder. She hoisted the blanket up and around his hand, tucking the linen just underneath her chin.

"Everyone comfortable before I turn out the light?" he asked. "Otherwise, we'll accidentally poke each other in the dark."

"Yep!" Sati answered enthusiastically.

"I am comfortable," Sam answered, but cast a worrisome glance down at Gabriel. "But are you?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Good enough. Wouldn't mind having my own bed, but this is fine. I'll rest."

The angel didn't seemed convinced, and stared at him with some scrutiny, but eventually nodded. "Very well."

With a final glance towards a window, Gabriel switched the flashlight off, blanketing the three in utter darkness.

For a long time, only the wind and dust pelting the truck broke the silence. The storm became so loud he couldn't hear himself breathe, and wondered how they'd held a conversation only minutes ago.

The storm worried him for other reasons. Just days ago they'd had one hell of a storm over in Lebanon, and this storm front could possibly keep sweeping across the plains and hit it again. Sure, he'd seen dust storms in quick succession before... a few _weeks_ apart.

It meant the blight had worsened. More grasses had died, weeds and plants of all sorts had succumbed, and so nothing could hold the soil still when the wind blew through.

He clutched Sati tighter in his arms, and she squirmed, resettling in his lap and resting her head on his shoulder, quickly falling back asleep. Sleeping away the storm, as she had so many others. Once upon a time, not too long ago, she'd been terrified of these storms. What had changed?

He let his head rest back against the wall of the truck's cabin, his eyes wide open in the darkness. So many things to worry about. He had to keep working, to try and solve some of these problems. Maybe he couldn't fix the blight, though he'd probably never stop trying, but if he could fix Sam, maybe... maybe Sam could take Sati away from this awful place. Take her somewhere where she'd flourish. He had no doubt he'd care for her.

Sam's arm shifted, and fitting into the crook of his neck.

"Stop fretting," he murmured, voice only just audible above the wind. "Just rest, Gabriel. Whatever thoughts keep you awake, you can do nothing about them now."

"What makes you think I'm worrying?"

"You always worry. But at this juncture, I can feel the tension in your muscles. It is not a posture conducive to good rest."

Even in the pitch darkness, Sam could read him like a book.

"I'll try," he offered.

"As will I."

Gabriel tried to make a concerted effort to relax, the top of his head resting against the truck's interior wall. But Sam's arm moved just so it cradled his neck, and it felt ridiculously comfortable.

"Your arm's going to go to sleep like this," Gabriel warned.

"I will remove it if it does," he answered. "Sleep."

Gabriel chuckled in the darkness, and shut his eyes. Sleep. He sorely needed sleep if he wanted to drive safely in the morning.


	15. Chapter 15

The remainder of the trip home unfolded without trouble, all except for Sam's utter, disturbing quiet.

The storm had cleared in the mid-morning, and Gabriel wasted no time in hurrying down the road. Sam's best chance at recovery was in his bed, where he could lay still and not suffer from the gusting wind.

But despite the bumpy roads, Sam didn't complain. He barely roused, which was all kinds of concerning. Gabriel became vigilant at giving him his medicine, unwilling to have the angel die on them before they even made it back.

How had he gotten so much worse, and so quickly? Hadn't the whole point of the trip been to make him better? To help him recover?

If only Gabriel hadn't made the mistake of taking out his Grace. He'd never thought ahead far enough to realize it wouldn't go back in once out. Sure, it worked for angels in this universe, but Sam didn't fit into that category. His vessel had become as weak as any human, and his True Self didn't recognize the poisonous Grace it had collected in other places. And the one tiny seed of Grace he had left inside probably wouldn't keep him alive, not in the face of dust pneumonia.

Sati remained silent. She peeked back over the edge of the seat every so often at Sam, her big, brown eyes worrisome.

They made it back to the farmhouse late in the night, and before Gabriel had even managed to get to the front door, Cas came rushing out.

"You've been gone a while," he breathed, and wrapped Gabriel in a hug. "Sam?"

"Not so great," he said. "We've got to get him cleaned up and upstairs in his bed. And we have to talk."

It took work to usher Sati inside, because being the curious, inquisitive little thing she was, she wanted to hover and help. But the seven-year-old had no hope of helping them carry a giant, heavy archangel up three flights of stairs.

Before unloading the supplies, before even catching his breath, Gabriel and Cas worked to maneuver Sam out of the truck. The angel finally awakened, and groaned low in his throat, muttering half-coherent apologies for Gabriel's and Cas' trouble.

Unlike before, when he'd been flayed raw by the dust storm, Sam couldn't get his feet under him at all. He couldn't even _try_. And this time, they couldn't risk him even putting the slightest pressure on his leg for fear it might break again. So while Gabriel hoisted him up under his arms, Cas worked to carry his torso, careful to not to jostle the splint.

"Didn't the hospital help him?" Cas asked, his brow pinched in the faint light.

"Helped his leg and arm. Did nothing for his lungs."

"But his Grace—."

"Like I said, Little Bro, we're going to have to talk."

Cas' lips set in a tight, grim line.

Carrying Sam up the stairs had never been more difficult. With the angel no better than deadweight, Gabriel didn't know how they'd manage it. And also, Gabriel's inability to handle the task had a great deal to do with the fact he needed to sleep for about a week straight.

When they finally situated him in the bed, the angel blinked, bleary eyed and exhausted. And like a moth to a flame, Gabriel leaned over, brushing thick, dark hair from his face.

"Hey there, kiddo," he murmured. "Worst of it's over. Now you just need to rest."

He shut his eyes, wheezing. "Where's Sati?"

That hadn't been the response Gabriel expected.

"Downstairs, if she listened to me."

"I need to speak with you," he wheezed. "Without the little one in earshot."

Gabriel's hair stood on end. No good could come from this.

"I'll get her," Cas said, spine straightening. "I'll take her downstairs for some late night atole." He turned his head towards Sam. "It's good to have you back."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, my friend. Perhaps one day I will be well enough to help you carry heavy things, instead of the other way around."

Cas smiled, warm and true and rare, and nodded. "Just get some rest." He stalked out of the room.

Gabriel turned his head towards Sam, his chest beating wildly. "Just you and me now, kiddo. What's up?"

He struggled to catch his breath. "The damage to my lungs is irreparable."

"I know," Gabriel hummed. "We're going to fix it, though. Don't worry. I promise, I'll figure out a way—."

"No, you do not understand," he murmured. "We do not have time. I won't... won't survive long. We must try to reinsert some of my Grace."

Gabriel frowned, his fingers instinctively closing around the vial in his pocket. "If we expose it to the open too long, though..."

"Most of it shall bleed away," he finished. "I am aware. But if I can absorb even a tiny amount, I shall gather Grace from this universe more swiftly. It will be enough to keep me alive."

Gabriel pinched his lips, frowning at the prospect. He took out the vial, and pulled a seat close to the bedside.

"Is there any trick to this I didn't know before?" he asked.

"It should seek the closest vessel," he answered.

He stared at the bottle in his hand, and moved it closer to Sam's face. The archangel's lips parted, and Gabriel uncorked it, damn near shoving it in his mouth. They waited. And waited.

And again, nothing happened.

After several long minutes, Sam turned his face away, his good hand pushing the vial away. "Forgive me. This endeavor is pointless," he said. "My Grace does not wish to return to me, and I cannot command it to do so. I was foolish to think otherwise."

With a defeated sigh, his head collapsed back onto the pillow.

Hesitantly, Gabriel corked the vial, his stomach churning.

"I swear to you, Sam," he breathed. "I'm going to fix this. Don't you give up. Don't."

The angel did not look at him, and remained silent.

"Hey," Gabriel pressed, feeling upset. "You can't give up, Sam. You've got to trust me. I swear to you, I _will_ fix this. I promise with every fiber of my being I'll find a way. I will."

When Sam again said nothing, Gabriel felt his own voice breaking.

"Sam, please," he breathed. "Trust me. I know things have been hell for you, in ways I could never imagine in a million years. But if you can muster it, just one more time, have faith in me. Please. I won't let you die."

Slowly, the angel swiveled his head towards him, eyes wet.

"Can you do that, Sam? Can you just hold on a while longer? Can you believe in me?"

He didn't know what he intended to accomplish by asking for Sam's faith. He had no idea how to fix this, only that he had to, that it was _necessary_ , even if it seemed impossible. He could feel it deep in his soul, a conviction he'd felt only once before in his entire life.

He could do this. He _would_ do it.

The angel blinked, slow and tired, and nodded once. "I do not believe in much, anymore. But... I have faith in _you_." He took a shaking breath. "I believe in you."

Gabriel felt his chest tighten, his eyes stinging with tears. They streamed down his face, and though he hated showing tears in front of the angel, he hadn't expected how it might feel to have Sam affirm his faith in him.

He patted his arm, standing to his feet. He drew the blankets up and around Sam's shoulders. "Rest."

* * *

Gabriel had known time was of the essence, but also that he wouldn't be any use to Sam if he couldn't keep his eyes open. So he cleaned himself up and went to bed, forcing himself to try and rest. Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, nightmares plagued his dreams.

He awoke early in the morning again, his mind pondering things that had happened more than a decade earlier, and wondering if his prior experiences with angels would have any use here.

When both Cas and Gabriel had refused to say 'yes', Lucifer had taken refuge in another vessel—a young, stupid cousin of theirs, who ended up paying the ultimate price for letting an archangel ride his skin. Michael had done the same, but he'd come cooing to Cas, offering to fix the many troubles Lucifer had made if Cas would only say 'yes'. And of course, he'd return the body once done, no harm done at all.

When he pulled the family card, imploring Cas to protect Gabriel and their cousins, he also forecast a grim and perilous future for humanity. So his little brother had given in and said 'yes'. When Michael killed Lucifer, and broke his word about fixing Lucifer's catastrophes, Cas hated angels forever after.

But before he had taken him as a vessel, Michael had to inspect Cas' soul. Something had gone wrong. Somehow it had been damaged by Lucifer, and he'd stuck his hand right into Cas' gut and fixed it. Cas had howled in pain, but Michael succeeded.

Hadn't he made an off comment about souls housing powerful stores of energy? Hadn't Sam, for that matter?

Gabriel found himself considering the idea all through breakfast. His stomach growled, demanding food, but he found himself so lost in thought he could only nibble. Cas' brow furrowed in disapproval. Sati sat groggily beside him, pushing her food around with her spoon.

"Do you need me to take Sati to school today?" Cas asked.

Gabriel's eyes remained distant, but he nodded. "Yeah. You're awesome. Thanks."

Sati said nothing, probably too sleepy to think about it much. As Cas stood to usher her out the door, he turned his gaze on his big brother.

"Don't do anything stupid, Gabriel," he said.

"Not planning on it," he answered, sipping his atole.

Sati gave him a quick hug, and Gabriel stood in the doorway and watched as Cas' car vanished into the distance, the plume of dust from the road rising into the sky. He took one last sip of his atole and shut the door, setting the mug down on the table. With some trepidation, he ascended the stairs. Sam needed his medicine, but if Gabriel were right, he might have a way for Sam to get some of his of mojo back.

The door creaked open, a loud, ugly noise in the quiet of the farmhouse, and he slipped into the room. Sam laid on the bed, pale and shivering, each breath worse than the last. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he wouldn't last long, it seemed.

He set a chair next to Sam's bed, and sank down into it, resting his palm on the angel's forehead. "Sam. Sam, wake up."

The angel stirred, his eyes blinking open groggily.

"I need to ask you something, kiddo. And I need your head in the game to do it."

Sam pinched his eyes in confusion, but nodded. "All right."

He sighed, and continued. "The angels here, they could reach inside of people's bodies and touch their souls. Can you?"

Sam frowned, a dark expression settling in the creases of his eyes. "Indeed. Why?"

"You said before my soul had some kind of power. Could it help you?"

Sam's expression continued to darken. "Yes, but—."

"Do you have the ability to do reach inside and touch my soul?"

"I will _not_ ," he answered immediately.

"Yeah, yeah," Gabriel huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I know it hurts like a bitch and it'll take me down for a few days. That's not what I asked you. Can you or can't you?"

Sam's frown deepened. "I can, yes."

"Will it give you enough strength to draw in some Grace?"

His troubled expression did not waver, but some hint of realization sparkled in his eyes. "I don't know. It may. I had not considered it before."

"Awesome. Let's get started."

"Gabriel," he responded, voice cautionary. "Do you know how much this will hurt? I... I do not wish to harm you."

"I know," he said. "I haven't experienced it myself, but I've watched it happen to Cas before. I know how awful it's going to feel."

Sam's good arm shifted, a shaking hand closing over Gabriel's wrist. "I do not wish to harm you," he repeated.

"And you think I want to watch you die?" Gabriel huffed, shaking his head. "To watch you suffer? After everything we've been through? Kiddo, if I can shoulder some of the pain with a guarantee you'll get better, I'd throw myself into a deep, dark pit for a while."

Sam's frown faded, the lines of his face twisting with dread.

"I know you're in pain," Gabriel comforted him. "I know you can't breathe well, and everything hurts. And I'm really sorry I didn't think of this sooner, or maybe we could have avoided so much of this." He paused. "I didn't realize souls could power you up, or whatever."

"I never thought of it either," Sam answered. "I've only done it once, long ago, and I... I swore I would never again do such a thing." He paused. "I am not certain I would have done so before now, even if you had asked."

Gabriel patted his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get to it. Tell me what I should do."

He fell silent for a long moment. "You must consent."

"But it's my idea," Gabriel said, his face scrunching up.

"No, it is not unlike possession. I must reach inside of you with my True Self. To enter into your body at all, in any manner, you must say 'yes'." He hesitated. "I'm not certain if things worked the same with the angels of this universe, but I personally cannot overcome this requirement."

"Oh."

The irony of it almost burned. He'd gone out of his way to avoid saying 'yes' to Lucifer for so long. He'd never thought he'd volunteer to say 'yes' to another angel.

"I don't give you permission to possess me," he muttered. "But, yes. I give you permission to touch my soul."

Sam swiveled his head, studying their surroundings. "Typically, I would instruct you to sit or recline comfortably while I hovered over you. However, since I cannot move, that will not suffice." He glanced at the bed. "I suggest you lie down here."

Gabriel blinked. "There's not enough room."

"There is just enough," Sam said. "We shall be nearly entangled, but we shall both fit."

He stared at the bed, uncertain. "But... your leg, and arm..."

"On the opposite side. I want you to lie down on my right side."

"Okay," he breathed, though he didn't feel okay at all. His nerves tangled together in a trembling mess, and his chest hurt in anticipation of the pain of what he'd asked for. "Okay," he repeated.

He moved to pull the blankets away, and carefully scooted on the very edge of the bed. He had just enough room, and for a moment, Sam's body heat distracted him. They were indeed going to end up tangled together in the single-sized bed, and somehow Gabriel felt immense comfort just curling into his side like this. He felt… protected, somehow. If he shut his eyes and ignored reality, he could almost pretend he felt the angel's affection.

Sam rolled onto his side, just far enough to maneuver his unbroken arm across Gabriel's stomach. Gabriel rolled towards the edge of the bed, his back to the nearby wall, allowing the angel to move and press against him as he needed. They shifted closer together until Sam had a workable angle, palm pressed against his torso. They both squirmed with the awkwardness of the position, but it was the best they could both do. If Sam were to try and roll to his left side, it wouldn't even work at all.

They were a tangle of bodies, limbs thrown every which way. Pressed up close to one another and breathing in the other's air. Gabriel shivered, and knew this would haunt his dreams (and fantasies) for a long time.

Sam's hand snaked underneath his shirt, his palm clammy and cold against the bare skin of his belly. Gabriel couldn't not shiver. Again.

"I'm ready," Gabriel breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself. "But promise me you won't stop until you take what you need."

"Gabriel, I do not wish to cause you long-lasting harm."

"And I'm not asking you to," he said. "I'm just saying, I can rest up and my soul will be back to its normal self in a few days. So I don't care how much I'm screaming. Keep going until you have enough energy to survive. I will _not_ let you die on me, kiddo."

Sam frowned, his eyes pinching in concern. "Yes. All right."

"Give me your word. Don't make me watch you die. Please."

Sam turned his head away, but nodded. "You have my word."

"Now," Gabriel grimaced. "Let's get this over with."

The pressure of Sam's hand increased on his belly. It felt strange, as though a heavy weight rested there.

"Forgive me," the angel said.

He opened his mouth to tell Sam to stop worrying about the whole thing and just get on with it, but the next moment the angel somehow pushed inside of his skin. He could _feel_ the angel's True Self in his body, feeling his way around. When Sam finally closed his grip around his soul, it felt like fire burned through Gabriel's veins.

He tried not to scream, even if it felt like holy fire scorched him alive.

He thought he could hear Sam's True Voice, a sonorous chorus of bells and voices climbing up and down a scale. Even though he didn't have any real way of understanding what he heard, he almost thought he could piece together words; a language of pure emotion and intent. The rising crescendo of the music he heard bled concern. The lower tones felt almost like affection. The middle, neutral chords spoke of deep concentration.

He focused in on Sam's True Voice, trying to block out everything else. Otherwise, he'd stay caught up in the pain, and Gabriel couldn't bear to focus on the agony unfolding inside of him.

' _Forgive me_ ,' he heard Sam say, both his human voice and True Voice together. ' _I shall not linger long_.'

"Don't you dare stop before you've got enough!" Gabriel half-screamed, howling in the dusty room. "Keep going!"

Vaguely, he could hear himself screaming his voice raw. He knew his shrieking didn't give Sam any motivation to continue, but Gabriel couldn't make himself stop. The pain felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

Sam's True Voice stuttered. Stopped. Then Sam's human voice gasped, and at the same time, Gabriel heard a single, clear note, incomparable to anything he'd ever heard before. It almost sounded like a single bell, ringing clear in utter silence.

Another clear, pure note followed, and then another, until a beautiful chord rang in his ears. Gabriel didn't know how he knew, but this music had nothing to do with Sam's Voice.

The pain lessened at once, confusingly, as he could still feel Sam's grip on his soul inside. It remained uncomfortable, but the fire had burned itself out. The chord grew louder, until Gabriel could hear nothing else, and he wondered for a moment if he heard the sound of his soul. But no, souls didn't sing, did they? They were wisps of quiet light. Angels were the ones with incomprehensible True Voices.

But this? He'd never heard a more beautiful song in his life. If the stars themselves could come together and sing, he thought they'd sing like this. He had nothing to compare it to.

Sam's grip on him shifted, and _that_ hurt, like a sharp kick to the gut, and Gabriel could not hold back a gasp. Well, at least he had stopped screaming.

"What's that?" he croaked, trying to find his voice amidst Sam's work.

He managed to open his eyes, and saw complete and utter shock written upon the angel's face. Well. Nothing that meant nothing good.

"What's wrong?"

Sam's stunned expression faded, and he shook his head. "You should not be coherent during this process."

"I'm a survivor," he groaned. "Can't say it's pleasant, though." He struggled for breath. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong? Isn't it working?"

Sam seemed lost for words, his voice colored with wonder. "Your... your soul, it's... responding _well_ to me. It is quite powerful." He paused, his voice going plain and neutral, all hints of wonder gone. "Yes, this endeavor is succeeding. I shall finish in a moment."

Gabriel felt relief, powerful and full, rush through him. "What's this song I hear? It's beautiful."

When he opened his eyes again, the angel seemed lost for words. "I am not certain."

He blinked. Sam had just lied to him. Gabriel would have known the lie even if he'd only been looking on, but here, with Sam extending part of his True Self inside of him, he could _feel_ it. Something had spooked the angel, and left him stunned.

"Don't lie," Gabriel said, and grimaced. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he replied, knowing he'd been caught. "The song means nothing ill." He paused. "But it is private."

That much was true. He could feel it, there in the place where Sam's True Self and Gabriel's soul touched. And while he felt deathly curious, he respected Sam's right to keep some secrets to himself. So he shut his eyes and leaned back, letting the angel do his thing.

"It's beautiful," Gabriel hummed. "I can hear your True Voice, too."

"Heaven built your body to house an archangel. You are perceptive in so many ways you do not realize."

The angel's not-hand shifted, loosening its grip. Fingertips lingered over the edges of Gabriel's bright soul, sending shivers down the length of his spine. Slowly, Sam pulled his hand free, and Gabriel could no longer feel his own soul.

And then, Sam had finished. Gabriel gasped for air, and Sam stroked his cheek with his thumb, his good hand gentle and warm against Gabriel's skin.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Better than I expected," Gabriel answered. He moved, quick to disentangle himself from Sam, and sat up. His hands instinctively checked his stomach. He had no mark or wound, not even the impression of one. "But the real question is, did it work?"

But Gabriel could already _see_ the answer. Sam's color had returned to normal, he no longer seemed dazed, and his breath came easy and clear.

"It did," he said. "I can feel the Grace of this universe flowing into me. It shall slowly gather and strengthen me. The power of your soul has healed my vessel enough to survive until then."

Gabriel rose to his feet, stretching his exhausted limbs. He felt sleepy enough to go to bed for a week, but all in all, he felt five hundred percent better than he'd expected to feel.

"Why am I on my feet?" he asked. "That should have taken me down for days."

Sam's expression darkened, hesitant. "Your soul recieved my intrusion well. We were... compatible, after a manner of speaking. It made the trauma easier."

He clearly didn't want to talk about it, and Gabriel knew he shouldn't push. Not this time, at least. He'd wait until a better moment, when Sam wouldn't feel so threatened.

"I know you said it was private," Gabriel said, "but I just want to make sure you're all right. You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Sam's face darted in his direction, his distant, thoughtful expression evaporating away. "Of course. I assure you, I am well."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "All right. I'm gonna take your word for it, angel. Now, get some rest."

"I find myself quite awake at this juncture," he said.

"I don't care how wide awake you are," Gabriel told him. "You're going to lay still and rest. Did your leg go and unbreak itself?"

Sam frowned. "No..."

"Right. Still gonna take a while, hmm?"

Sam seemed to deflate. "Yes."

"Then your ass is staying right where it is," he said.

Sam sighed and relaxed again against the mattress. His eyes darted in Gabriel's direction once more. "You should not tax yourself, either. If you go rest, then I shall do the same."

"Are you threatening me?" He couldn't help but laugh.

Sam's eyes twinkled with mirth. "If it gets me what I desire."

Well. What a loaded word.

"Sure. Feel like I could sleep for a week, anyway," Gabriel told him. "Let's both rest."

Sam settled into his bed dragging the covers up over his body. "Thank you for saving my life. Again."

Gabriel smiled. "I told you to have faith in me."

Sam smiled, warm and bright, and for once, it seemed full of promise. "And so I did, and had my faith rewarded. Thank you."

Gabriel cast him one last smile, and pulled the door shut behind him. A tingling warmth set about in his stomach as he remembered Sam's thumb stroking his cheeks, and his breath hot on his cheeks…. And he remembered he was totally, completely screwed. So, _so_ screwed. He'd never get over his love for the angel at this rate.

He stumbled down a flight of stairs, and flopped into his bed, face-first. He totally planned to sleep the entire day away. Cas would just have to understand.


	16. Chapter 16

The days grew more frigid, as they always did late in the year. The late autumn harvest came and went, keeping Cas and Gabriel busy. Usually, Gabriel had the farm somewhat automated during the growing seasons, but the harvests gave them far more trouble. He had old computers driving combines, but there weren't quite enough batteries and solar cells to do the whole job, and Gabriel couldn't risk reallocating some from the farmhouse to do the job.

So, as always, he and Cas drove combines for two weeks straight. The combines required vigilance, a skill Gabriel didn't have in droves, not like Cas. But yet, the job had to get done, and so he pressed forward, spending long days driving. The noise of the combine always jarred him, and he never quite got used to it, or the buzzing it left in his ears at night. His inability to get a good night's sleep anymore just made it worse.

Soon after they would plant the hybridized, lab-manufactured winter corn. It grew freakishly tall by a month in (someone had gone a little crazy with their GMO), but sweet and hardy, like a strong species of corn from ages ago. So long as it didn't stay below zero too long for a stretch, it could survive a Kansas winter, unlike the corn of decades ago. Though, last year it had gotten down so cold for a straight week it'd killed everyone's crop, so they never had any guarantees.

He hated everything about farming. He hated the harvest most. He hated the mess of corn husks and cobs leaving a cloud of debris behind every combine. He hated loading the trucks which they had to schedule to rent, and he hated the way the corn piled out of the combine's auger arm, like the clanging of coins striking metal. He hated driving the truck to town, weighing the load, and unloading the kernels into the corn elevator. And he especially hated plowing the field back under immediately after they'd finished, and the process of remineralizing the soil. He hadn't managed to find enough solar cells to do the heavy lifting yet, so every planting season, he and Cas had to plow hundreds of acres. It took weeks longer than the harvest itself, with long days of hard work with little sleep in between.

Even the schools let out, so the older kids could help with the harvests. Nothing held more importance in society's eyes anymore.

Their only break, near the middle-end of the harvesting and replanting, was Thanksgiving. When he'd been a young boy, Gabriel remembered mighty feasts, the likes of which he could never make Sati understand. There had been meat, so much meat. Turkey, beef, and pork. Potatoes. And bread, delicious bread. Sweets made from real sugarcane, not the processed corn sugar they used now. Cheesecakes and pumpkin pies.

Those were all history. If one just happened to own a cow or goat and managed to keep it well-fed, you might have the luxury of cheese. Some wild turkeys roamed about, but they'd been such a threat to the agriculture that they'd been picked off en masse years earlier. Pumpkins, potatoes, wheat… all victims of the blight.

So, at Thanksgiving they had a great feast of corn, and more corn. Cornbread. Corn casserole. Corn pudding. It had become bland and monotonous, no different than any other big dinner anymore. They didn't have anything left to make.

He worked year-round to keep the combines in working shape, because no one made new ones anymore. With the newest strains of corn growing faster and faster, and resistant to more severe weather, they now had three harvests a year. The winter crop always came with the most question marks.

He knew he should feel grateful, that he shouldn't complain about his lot in life. He, Cas, and Kali had been lucky to survive the first great famine that had swept the world when the blight had begun to kill everything. Before that, it had taken more than luck for the trio to survive the archangels' war. And Gabriel knew the remote odds of surviving to the present day with his brother and daughter still with him. They'd lost Kali along the way, but other people had lost entire families.

But still, he hated this life, the scrounging and foraging for everything they needed. He had once flown as a pilot, had his own laboratory, and had such a promising and fulfilling career ahead of him. And now? They said they didn't need engineers or scientists anymore, only farmers. And so, Gabriel did what everyone else did: he farmed. He took his hard-won knowledge and applied it to farm machinery and old electronic waste instead of shuttles and airplanes. He spent his extra time in his lab studying the blight and agricultural mysteries.

It hadn't been the life Gabriel wanted, but it was the one he had, and he dealt with it as best as he could.

Harvests gave him too much time to think while he drove the combines. It made him muse on anything and everything, much to his chagrin. Self-pity usually ranked high on the list, followed by too much angst. Sadly, no one had much entertainment anymore to distract them from these things. And he couldn't very well read a book and drive at the same time.

Sati was too young to help in the harvest—that, and Gabriel didn't want her anywhere near the dangerous equipment. But in the house, she became a godsend. Free from the need to go to school, she bounced around the farmhouse, excited to show the many ways she could help. She cooked modest dinners, hot and waiting on them when they came in at the end of the day. Under Cas' tutelage, she had fast become quite the cook.

But Gabriel found himself ridiculously grateful she was there to keep an eye on Sam, too, and vice versa. The two needed one another in many ways, it seemed. Sam had recovered enough to take his own medicine, and slowly soaked in Grace as the time crawled by. But no matter how much Grace he drew in, the spell the hunters had cast during the archangels' war still hindered an angel's power on Earth. Sam would become powerful, but within limits. With Heaven still sealed off, nothing would change.

But his bones healed, slow, but faster than any human. The limited power he'd drawn in from his Grace seemed to help. Or maybe the power-up from touching his soul had accelerated the process. Either way, Gabriel was glad.

Sam didn't complain, at least not within earshot of Gabriel. However, he'd acted different since he'd touched Gabriel's soul. He'd become far more vibrant, his color had improved, and the long-lived rasp in his breath had vanished. He squirmed with impatience, wanting out of his casts, but Gabriel had ordered him to take it easy. Sam, as he usually did, listened. But he would heal, and fast. He might even be up and walking by Christmas—though, certainly not hauling anything heavy around, at least if Gabriel had any say in the matter.

But in the meantime, Gabriel worked the fields, trying to finish the planting of the winter crop.

Yes, Gabriel had too much time to think out there, watching the combine separate out corn from the cobs and husks. He had even more time to think while plowing everything under, and while adding new minerals to the soil.

He felt so damn tired all the time. His dreams had been troubled as of late. Ever since he'd gone and helped Sam with his Soul Power, he'd had trouble sleeping. He dreamed of the angel all the time. Good dreams, bad dreams; all the same, leaving him awake and panting, and sometimes aroused so much he couldn't stand it. And he rarely could go back to sleep when his dreams had awakened him.

Just what was he supposed to do?

He'd already offered to let Sam stay once he'd recovered. Sure, the archangel had been drugged at the time, but Gabriel had no intention of rescinding the offer—though he should have probably had the conversation with Cas _before_ rather than _after_ offering. But thankfully, Cas had been on board. Besides, it would be helpful to have another pair of hands on the farm.

So long as Gabriel could keep his ridiculous, love-sick emotions out of things.

There'd been a name for this sort of thing, long ago. The Nightingale Effect, right? When someone caring for another got all lovey-dovey over their patient? Maybe it explained everything. Maybe as soon as Sam didn't need care, Gabriel wouldn't fawn over him anymore.

But who was he kidding? He'd spent weeks out in the field since returning, working and only seeing the archangel in passing, and his emotions hadn't calmed down one whit. Even now, Sam didn't require round-the-clock care. Hell, he'd been combing his way through Gabriel's collection of science textbooks, trying to determine differences between his world and this one. He said he wanted to teach himself things to make him 'useful.'

He was so gone on Sam. And he could never, ever tell him.

Sam had a mate out there, one he thought he would never return to. Gabriel couldn't imagine how it might feel to know such separation and disappointment. In the light of Sam's unique situation, Gabriel's feelings paled in comparison. He loved Sam, sure, but the angel had said God _created_ him as a mate to someone else. He'd been made to fit to another half, one he would never return to, not unless Gabriel found a way to send him home. And okay, yeah, he felt plenty of jealousy over the whole mate business, but it didn't matter now.

Gabriel hadn't given up on finding a way to fix Sam. Maybe the archangel thought it impossible, but Gabriel refused to believe it. He'd seen the impossible happen time and again, and if a thing were necessary, it had a way of happening, impossible or not. Gabriel could send Sam home. He _could_. He _knew_ he could. Even if it meant never seeing him again, well, he could live with it. It would suck, sure, but Sam deserved to go home. He'd been working towards it for nearly three centuries.

He turned the wheel of the planter towards home, riding the long, bumpy path back until he pulled inside under the safety of the barn's roof. They'd finally finished. If the weather cooperated, they'd have seeds sprouting within two weeks.

The sun had long set, and Gabriel found himself walking back to the farmhouse in the moonlight. Cas hadn't returned just yet, but he could hear the hum of his planter in the distance. He'd finish up soon, assuming he hadn't completed his rounds already.

As he strolled into the house, he found Sati reading one of his old textbooks by lamplight.

"Hey there," he greeted. "Holding down the fort for us?"

She nodded, and giggled, crinkling her nose. "Your face is dirty!"

"Well, I've been planting seed corn in the the dust all day!" he retorted, give her a tired grin. "I bet I'm dirty all over!"

She laughed again, her eyes bright. "I made polenta. It's in the saucepan."

"Did you leave me and Cas any?" he teased.

"I made _extra_ ," she said. "Sam was hungry. He wanted to come down and help, but I told him you would get mad if I let him."

Gabriel snorted, patting the top of her head. "That's my good girl."

He stalked over to the stove, and saw a thick, gelatinous mass of boiled cornmeal. He'd worked himself hard for days on end, and his stomach growled. It smelled absolutely _delicious_. He took a plate, and piled it full, plopping down across from her.

"Sati, don't tell Cas, but I think you might be the better cook."

"But Uncle Cas is the one teaching me," she said.

He smiled around a mouthful. "And the student shall surpass the master."

She giggled, and kept reading, her eyes intent on her book.

"You've been so good around here, little lady. What would we do without you?"

She glanced up again, and shrugged. "I don't do much."

"You're a lifesaver," he said. "I know it's not fair you have to pick up the slack when Cas and I are out in the field, but we appreciate it."

"But that's why they let us out of school during the harvests, isn't it?"

"Well, yes." Gabriel sighed, setting down his spoon. "I just wish..."

He couldn't finish the thought out loud. He _wished_ she could run and play, that she knew more food than just grits and polenta and atole. He wished she lived in a world with a future, one that didn't threaten her with dust pneumonia, suffocation, or starvation. He wished he could give her everything.

"Nevermind," he mumbled, swallowing around a mouthful.

* * *

As it turned out, Gabriel had been correct in his prediction. Sam managed to get up and on his feet before Christmas.

Gabriel first realized it when he'd come up to Sam's room, only to find the angel trying his luck with the crutches Cas had fished out for him ("Don't do that!" Gabriel had fussed. "He'll see it as some sort of sign!"). The angel didn't quite have the hang of it. Gabriel might have laughed at the sight if he hadn't felt so much alarm.

"Sam," he'd said sternly, "why are you on your feet?"

Without missing a beat, the archangel turned in his direction, giving him a glowing smile. "My femur is whole once more. I will not harm it this way."

Gabriel had tried to convince him to sit down, to rest, but Sam insisted on trying to regain his strength. Gabriel had put up so much of a fuss that they'd compromised: Sam would keep the cast one or two more weeks and use the crutches until he'd gotten some muscle back in the area. Gabriel didn't care how much the archangel swore it had healed. He wanted take care with those bones.

And Sam kept to his word. He left the cast intact. He hobbled around on the crutches. Gabriel even had to show him the least painful way to use the crutches. He'd never imagined in a million years he'd teach an archangel how to properly use a set of crutches, but… well. Here they were.

This lasted about a week before Sam wanted rid of the crutches _and_ the cast.

Gabriel forbid it, but Sam did his best to argue the point with him. Finally, Gabriel succeeded by reminding Sam whose house he lived in, and thus Sam should follow _his_ rules. The angel relented, but only just.

It made for quite a sight. Gabriel had become used to a Sam too sick to argue the point. He had suspected, if pain-free and healthy, he might act like more of a dick, just like any other angel (if a bit more humble than the rest). But no dickishness emerged, just enthusiasm and cheer. And Gabriel had to admit, he liked this version of Sam far more than the sick, gloomy one.

But Sam couldn't hide how _bored_ he was. He would read endless books, hop up and pace about in his room, and finally, about two weeks before Christmas, he left the room entirely.

It wasn't the first time Sam had been out and about. Before the injuries from the dust storm, when he'd slowly healed up in his room, he'd limped his way downstairs once. He'd even made his way down into Gabriel's lab. So somehow, it seemed fitting he made his first appearance down in the lab again. From the strange thunk-thump of the crutches, Gabriel knew Sam, of all people, clambered down the basement stairs. He didn't even need to turn around.

"I'd tell you to go back to your room and get off your leg," he commented without turning from his microscope, "but you wouldn't listen to me anyway."

Thunk-thump. Thump-thunk.

"I am healed," he said, a thin line of annoyance in his voice. "I no longer need the crutches or the cast."

Gabriel sighed, and finally spun around in his chair. Sam appeared winded from maneuvering down from the third floor, but otherwise fine. His cheeks were blotchy, and sweat matted his hair to his face.

"Looks like the trip down the stairs took it out of you."

"I am nearly human," he said. "I do not possess the level of strength I once did." He hobbled over to a chair, and maneuvered himself down into it. "I must rebuild it. Lingering in bed will not assist me."

Gabriel gave him a once-over, and sighed. "You're not lying to me about your bones being all healed up?"

Sam frowned, his eyes squinting together. "I would not lie to you about anything."

"Omitting the truth is still a lie," Gabriel commented. "And you did lie to me, once."

Sam recoiled, his expression twisting in vague guilt.

"Ah-hah!" Gabriel chirped. "You _are_ hiding something. What's wrong?"

"Not what you think," Sam said. "It is a private matter. But the bones in my leg and arm are again whole. My ribs are strong once more."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "This private matter... You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Sam frowned. "Of course. I am merely... preoccupied with something."

"Of a private matter?"

Sam huffed, indignantly. "Am I not allowed to conceal things of a personal and sensitive nature?"

"Not if it endangers your health, or the health of those around you."

"It does not," he said, and sighed, bone-deep. "If you must know, I am preoccupied with thoughts of my mate. But I do not wish to speak further on the matter."

Any talk of Sam's mate always deflated Gabriel's mood. But he knew he couldn't show it; couldn't break his own facade.

"Hey, I told you before. Don't give up. I'm still going to find a way to get you out of this universe."

Sam cut his eyes at him. "What you speak of is impossible. I no longer have my wings."

"It _is_ possible," Gabriel cut in. "There's a spell that can send you to another universe."

"I am aware. I used this spell many times," Sam told him.

"No, no. Not an angel spell," Gabriel told him. "I've never told you this, but Cas? He did a stint in another universe, once. One where there was no magic or angels or anything."

Sam blinked. And blinked again. "In all the time we've spoken, you've never mentioned this."

"Because I never really believed it, not until you showed up," he retorted. "Times were bad. We hid from Michael and Lucifer. Cas eventually got booted back here, only to get our asses blasted to Purgatory a week later. We ran from monsters and angels who laid siege to the place to get us out."

Sam frowned, but said nothing.

"Look, the ingredients are hard to gather, but if I can manage it, I can at least get you off this rock and into this station you keep talking about. They can help you more than I can."

Sam's lips parted, his eyes wide, and he sank back into his chair. Speechless.

"So don't you mourn that mate of yours just yet," Gabriel told him. "I'm going to get you help. I told you to have faith in me. I'm going to find a way to send you home, even if it's a roundabout path, and even if it takes a while." He chuckled. "I don't usually fail at things I put my mind to."

Sam slowly lifted his gaze to meet Gabriel's eyes. "I imagine not."

Gabriel gave him a smile, and turned back to his microscope. "Now, if you're honest about the bones in your leg and arm being fine, we'll peel off those casts. But I want you to carry the crutches with you and take it easy. Can you at least do that?"

Sam nodded, the movement careful and measured. He still seemed shell-shocked, for reasons Gabriel couldn't fathom. He probably still didn't think he'd ever leave this universe again. But Gabriel would show him. He would.

After a long time, so long Gabriel had again become absorbed in examining the blighted leaf underneath his microscope, Sam began to speak in a distant, hesitant voice.

"I am not mourning," he said.

"Hmm?" Gabriel didn't glance up.

"For my mate," he said. "I... I do not mourn. It is different."

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, grateful Sam faced his back and couldn't see his expression. He hated this subject. He hated it with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. But if Sam wanted or needed to talk about it, he didn't have many other people to vent to.

He spun in his chair, and gestured with a hand. "If you want to talk, lay it on me. I'm not much, but I'm here and I'll listen."

Sam frowned. "Why would you say such a thing about yourself? You are... quite a lot."

Gabriel snorted. "Yeah, I imagine I'm _quite_ a handful." He paused, and tried to navigate his brain back to the subject at hand. "But Sam, you're right. You can keep some secrets if you want to. I don't need to hear every painful detail of your life story if you don't want to talk about it."

Sam fell silent, his eyes on his lap.

"I find myself conflicted," he said. "I am not mourning. Merely... uncertain of how to proceed."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, ignoring the pang of jealousy gripping his heart with sharp talons.

"You should do what feels right," Gabriel told him. "That's how a human would do it, so long as they had enough courage to talk about it. You've just gotta have courage about the whole thing."

He lifted his eyes, slow and intent, and his mouth fell open as though he were about to speak. But after a moment of indecision, his lips sealed shut, his eyes downcast once more.

Gabriel leaned forward, elbows propped on his lap. "And if someone is wise, they don't decide these things overnight. It's okay to take some time to think about it, just so long as you don't put it off forever."

Sam's eyes lifted once more, and after a moment, he nodded.

"I shall think on it for a time, then."

Gabriel sighed. "Well, then. Let's get these casts off of you."

* * *

The weather remained cold, but not record-breaking, and just mild enough the winter corn remained healthy. The first sprouts had broken through the soil, five inches high and growing fast. These genetically modified strains grew like lightning, and with the world-wide famine only getting worse, they always needed more corn.

No one complained about GMO foods anymore, and Gabriel found it kind of funny. Now, all the genetic modifications protected against blight, or resistance to harsh weather. And as a result, they'd beaten back the famine considerably in the last few years.

But Gabriel had no illusions. The dust storms kept coming, more rapid than ever before, and it worried him. It meant whatever hardy grasses and vegetation had survived thus far now had began to dwindle from the blight.

If this kept up, the entire planet would turn into a desert wasteland.

Gabriel traded his spare time between studying blighted plants and studying Sam's Grace, searching for answers on both. Fixing Sam's Grace, however, had fast become a more important endeavor. If he could get the angel all fixed up and ready to go, there was a chance, however slim, he could convince Sam to take them with him. At least Sati, if no one else.

Anyway, he hadn't given up, even if the angel had. Gabriel hadn't met many problems where logical planning and critical thinking couldn't prevail. Of course, there were hard exceptions, like death and taxes, but for the most part, other ailments and problems had solutions. He just had to find the right angle. It existed. He knew it did. It had to.

Of course, the idiots in town prayed for a Christmas miracle, just as they did every year, as if they didn't remember how God's abandoned children came wreaking havoc on the Earth. And maybe Raphael had been right; maybe God _was_ dead. Anyway, if He did still exist, He hadn't lifted a finger to help.

Gabriel knew what most didn't want to admit. Their little world faced doom unless someone figured out how to stop this angelic blight. And if Raphael, an archangel and one of their only angelic allies in this fight, couldn't figure out how to fix what his brother did, humanity had little chance of it.

The blight's worst trait was its ever-changing attack strategy. Morphing. Every time they developed a resistant species of corn, it changed and morphed to consume it. Every. Damn. Time.

Gabriel knew far more capable people worked on the problem, but he didn't want to give up himself. He didn't know how many scientists still lived out there, but he figured since the universities weren't taking many people anymore, we wagered not many. Everyone became farmers, anymore. No one had any choice.

But he tried to think about better things. Happier things, if such things existed.

Sati almost ran in circles with her excitement over the upcoming Christmas. She had a part in a school play in a few days, just before Christmas Eve. Gabriel didn't know what all it involved, but he imagined the 'magic of Christmas' would make an appearance, or maybe Jesus in a manger. Though last year they had done "Christmas Around the World", and he'd actually found it quite interesting.

He always smiled and pretended he felt as excited as Sati. Cas always got excited, too, so Gabriel kept up the charade. He loved his family so much, and they were his only reason for life anymore.

Though, somehow, the picture had changed, and it didn't ring quite as true anymore. He'd had someone else around to make life interesting, lately.

The day after Gabriel had sawed off Sam's casts, he joined them at the dinner table for the first time in his many months of being there. Gabriel found it hard to remember anymore. Five months? Six?

Yes, _six_ months. He'd fallen out of the sky in late June. Just after the early spring harvest, and just after the planting of the summer crop.

Sati all but squealed with excitement, and could barely sit still. She kept asking Sam if he wanted more food, bragging how she'd become the bestest cook ever, but he politely declined. In fact, for such a big guy, he didn't eat much at all.

He followed Gabriel down into the lab, offering his help however he could. But Gabriel noted the slight limp in his walk, and ordered him back to bed. Sam promised he would sit still, but Gabriel wanted him to go upstairs and prop his leg up in bed. (His arm, for all the damage it had taken, seemed remarkably fine)

Gabriel reminded Sam he would need time for muscles to readjust to the strain of walking and supporting his weight.

In the end, Sam gave him all sorts of a pleading look, and so Gabriel caved and let him prop his leg up on an extra chair while he worked.

Normally, Gabriel would feel unnerved by the silence, by the extra set of eyes on him while he did his work. But he enjoyed having Sam around while he worked his experiments. He savored the company and companionship the angel offered. It made the time pass faster, made the tedium feel less wearisome.

Sam didn't speak, as if he were afraid Gabriel would send him away if he uttered a single word.

After some time passed, Gabriel found himself filling the silence with commentary.

"I'm studying a blighted corn leaf," he explained, not glancing up from his microscope. "Trying to figure out the damn thing. It's resistant to everything we've thrown at it so far."

Sam, his voice careful and soft, responded. "Does it affect all species of corn you grow?"

"Not yet," Gabriel commented. "The spring corn is resistant, it seems, but it's creeping into the summer crop, and maybe even the winter crop. I found an affected leaf, and I thought it was left over from the summer crop, but... this is clearly a winter stem."

He paused, casting a tired glance in Sam's direction. The angel stared back, his expression grim.

"In your experience, how quickly do the strains of corn blight spread?"

"Depends," Gabriel sighed, turning back to the microscope. "It took years for okra and hops. It's also taken days for others. We lost soybeans in one horrific flash of blight that took out the world's crop in a single week. We planted the seeds we had left the next year, and modified seeds the next. They all caught the blight as soon as they sprouted and died."

Sam shifted at the edge of his vision.

"It will take the corn soon?" he asked, but it sounded more statement than question.

"Yes," Gabriel responded. "It's only a matter of time. We'll all either suffocate or starve... or both."

He cast a glance back towards the angel, whose eyes were distant, his head nodding.

"Because blight breathes nitrogen," Sam said, "and as more plant life dies and fails to produce oxygen, the percentage of nitrogen in the atmosphere increases."

"And we can't breathe it," Gabriel answered. "If it keeps up, you might be the only one left here."

Sam frowned. "You are mistaken. I will suffocate along with the rest of you. Or starve. It is in my interest to help how I can."

That gave Gabriel pause. He swiveled his chair back around to the angel, abandoning his microscope completely. "What? But you said you have Grace again, Grace from this universe."

"I do," Sam said, "but it is not mine. It won't sustain me as it would an angel from this universe. I can resist many things, even gain strength superior to a typical human, but I am still vulnerable. It may take me longer to suffocate or starve, but I would eventually succumb."

Gabriel grimaced, and felt a rotten pit of guilt in his stomach. "If I hadn't removed your Grace, you'd have at least a fighting chance."

Sam shook his head. "If you had not removed my Grace, I would have perished. You did no wrong, Gabriel. Do not blame yourself."

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. The paint on the ceiling had become old and chipped, and the brutal heat of repeated summers had caused it to peel. He would need to do something about it soon, or he'd have paint chips all over his equipment.

"I'm the one who insisted you take it out," he said. "I should have thought about the consequences."

"The consequence of not removing it would have been my death," the angel replied. His eyes focused in on Gabriel, strong and intense. "I would have succumbed to my injuries. And even if I had not, the hospital would have discovered my Grace upon my entrance exam. They would have done far worse to me, and possibly to you and Sati."

He said nothing, but just lowered his eyes to stare at Sam. He found no judgement there, and no anger. Only compassion, care, and concern.

God. Gabriel was so in love. He needed to get over it in a hurry, or Sam would be the death of him once he left.

"I would tell you to cease with your experiments on my Grace," Sam said, "and I would tell you what you seek to do is impossible." He paused, and smiled. "But you would not listen to me."

Hearing his own words parroted back to him made him snort. "Don't you get cheeky with me, now, or you'll get no cornbread come Christmas."

Sam chuckled, and shifted in the seat.

They fell into silence once more, and Gabriel returned to his experiment. He found it an easy, companionable silence, and Gabriel liked it. As he packed up his materials, piece by careful piece, the angel offered to help, but Gabriel waved him off.

When it came time to get Sam back upstairs, Gabriel again found himself facing a daunting challenge.

At first, the angel swore he felt fine, but he took the steps at a snail's pace, and clearly favored his right leg. Gabriel fussed at him to accept help until the angel relented. With one of the angel's long arms swung around his neck, Gabriel huffed and heaved to get him upstairs, trying his best not to wake up anyone.

After he got the angel securely tucked in, Gabriel tip-toed back downstairs to take a shower. He had just enough power for a decent shower, and he wanted to get clean. Besides, the others would find the noise of falling water easy to dismiss when resting. They always said rainwater made for soothing white noise.

As he climbed into the shower, he found the water just barely beyond lukewarm, and had to swallow down his disappointment. Of course, steaming hot showers were a thing of the past unless you wanted to heat the water yourself, but man, did he _really_ want a hot shower right now.

He wondered if Sam, once his Grace recovered, could use his mojo for those kinds of tricks. Maybe he could help them find an old, abandoned water heater somewhere in better shape than the one they had. Gabriel had repaired it over and over again, but after so many years, it stood on its last legs.

After a time, he shut the water off with a sigh, and toweled off. Once dressed, he stumbled upstairs and dropped into bed. He'd have another early morning.


	17. Chapter 17

Three days later, Gabriel found himself facing a mystery.

The winter corn didn't just grow, but it grew _too_ well. The sprouts should have grown a few inches tall, eight or nine at most, but he found himself staring at fresh stalks standing a foot and a half tall.

He'd grown this exact strain of corn last winter—before the icy weather had killed most of it—and it hadn't grown this tall so early in the season. Of course, they'd had cooler weather, and he hadn't had the same fertilizer and minerals to put in the soil.

He didn't immediately think it meant anything bad. After all, despite his one-hit wonder find of a blighted winter corn leaf, he had yet to find even a speck of blight anywhere else. Besides, he felt so tired all the time, what with his inability to sleep, and so his mind could be playing tricks on him.

Maybe conditions actually had improved, and the winter would treat them well. It'd make for an amazing crop, if so.

He had two hundred acres to keep track of, so he couldn't personally inspect every stalk in the entire field. He made trips searching the far corners of the one-hundred sixty acres standing between the farmhouse and the path to town, along with Cas. Sam, after insisting he should help, began to search the back forty acres.

Gabriel hadn't wanted him up and working the exact moment he'd could stand, but the stir-crazy archangel wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. And so, he took the rusty old truck Gabriel kept behind the barn as a backup, and made rounds of surveying himself.

Though it pained Gabriel to admit it, the angel provided them with a ton of extra help. Once he finished the back forty (he swore he'd been thorough, and coming from Sam, Gabriel had no doubt of it), Cas plotted out a section in the main fields where Gabriel and he hadn't yet searched.

Zigzagging to avoid combines and other equipment driving themselves, Sam eventually returned from the far reaches of the plot with an entire blighted plant.

The three sprung into action. Cas and Gabriel had to give Sam a quick-and-dirty version of how to burn part of a field without accidentally burning down the _entire_ field. They sectioned off a large chunk of seemingly unaffected corn in the acre which had held the single blighted plant, and razed it to the ground.

It felt like a dodged bullet, but Gabriel couldn't shake a terrible feeling.

The next morning, Cas left to take Sati to school, and Gabriel found himself considering a trip to the grain elevator on the southern end of the county. He dreaded the drive, but if there had been other signs of winter corn blight, someone would know of it there.

As he exited the house, he found Sam hanging out the door of a non-functional combine. It surprised Gabriel, considering he had thought the angel had been upstairs. In bed. Resting.

"The solar cells got busted in the last storm," Gabriel called to him over the wind. "The gear shifter is broken, too. I've got to fix it."

The angel swiveled in his direction, the old, worn flannels they'd given him blowing in the dusty wind. He had oil smudges on his cheeks, and it was sort of adorable. He _looked_ like a farmer.

Gabriel tossed his coat over his shoulder, twirling his truck keys in his hand. "Why're you out here, anyway? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I've rested more in the time I've been here than I've rested in billions of years of existence."

Gabriel snorted, and glanced at his truck. He had a feeling if he left Sam alone the angel would just find more work to do, and Gabriel well knew how Sam's leg still gave him trouble. The bone had healed fine, sure, but his muscles had become sore from sudden overuse. He'd grow back into his own skin in no time, much faster than a human, but Gabriel wanted Sam off his feet for now.

Might as well take the angel with him. It'd do the trick.

"Want to take a ride with me?" he asked, spinning keys around his keyring. "I have to head out to the grain elevator."

Sam tilted his head, thoughtful, then slid down from the tall combine to his feet. He brushed his hands on his jeans.

"I would enjoy a ride, I think," he said. "I am, regrettably, filthy. Would I not besmirch the interior of your truck?"

"We're all dirty all the time," Gabriel told him. "It's just part of living with the dust. You're fine." He spun on his heels, facing the truck. "So, you coming?"

Sam nodded, and crossed the distance in several long strides. Just about the time Gabriel lumbered inside, he found the angel climbing up into the cabin,pulling the door shut behind him.

"You know, I have to admit, it's nice not having to haul you in here all broken up."

"I agree," Sam said. "My other trips have all been undertaken with much pain."

Gabriel turned the key, one hand gripping the steering wheel as the truck sprung to life. Plenty of gas, tools in the back. All ready to go. He put the vehicle into gear, and took off.

"Will Castiel not wonder where we've gone?" Sam asked.

"He's a big boy. He'll figure out we took a ride somewhere," Gabriel answered, eyes on the road. "Besides, he wouldn't have wanted to go along. He hates trips to the grain elevator."

Just out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel could see Sam staring straight at him. He did so for a long moment, until he finally turned his head to stare at the road ahead. Perhaps he took in the scenery, or became lost in thought. Who knew? The monotonous landscape could wear on the nerves.

They drove in silence for quite a drive to the grain elevator easily took an hour. It stood in the next town over, and getting there when conditions generally cooperated and the roads were in great shape still took long enough. He'd wondered more than once why they hadn't built another complex in Lebanon, but he knew well more farmland stood down to the south.

The conditions remained excellent for the entire drive, until forty-minutes in they came across a portion of the road which had washed out entirely, boulders and debris deposited in their way.

"This does not look promising," Sam commented.

"No kidding," he grumbled.

He pushed his door open and climbed out, pacing over to the destroyed roadway. Sam followed suit, and they both examined the obstructed pathway. Gabriel's eyes trailed to the tall corn stalks (this farmer apparently grew another strain of late corn instead of the winter variety), and wondered if he could get around by driving through the corn.

But even the thought of it had him shaking his head. If it'd been his own corn, he might have considered it, _if_ the situation were dire. But today, he drove to the closest thing serving as a farmers' information hub, just to see if anyone else had found blighted winter corn. A trip based on a hypothetical.

"It seems debris has flooded this immediate area," Sam stated, eyes peering into the corn, perhaps seeing something Gabriel's human eyes couldn't. "It is possible to proceed around, but the path is precarious."

"Nah," he dismissed. "Can't drive through another farmer's corn. With people facing the threat of starvation, it'd have to damn near be an emergency."

He met Sam's gaze, and watched the angel give a solemn nod. "Is there another path?"

Gabriel sighed, and trotted back to the truck. As he climbed in, joined by Sam, he sat in silence in the cab, thinking. Thankfully, Sam neither pushed nor repeated his question. Just patiently waited for an answer.

"Maybe," Gabriel answered, his mind straining to remember details. "There used to be a town some miles west of here, but the land out there has no topsoil left at all. Can't farm it. People tried."

"So the town was abandoned?"

"Some ten, fifteen years ago? With all the wild weather we have, the roads could have been destroyed by ice or floods, or might be under dunes of dust. It's hard to know. No one ever goes out there. It's the _definition_ of out of the way." He paused. "But there's an old U.S. Highway near there we could use. It's pock-marked and a bitch to drive, but still whole in most places."

Sam sat quietly, his eyes unfocused, giving him a slow nod.

"I am along for the ride," he said. "Whatever you choose to do suits me."

Gabriel started the truck again, and did his best to perform a three-point-turn without damaging any of the corn on the narrow road. "Let's see what we can work out."

As it turned out, the somewhat-maintained farm roads helped him navigate around, but led them down paths farther away from their goal than he'd intended to get. Just when he felt lost enough to throw in the towel, he spotted the old ghost town in the distance, and with some tricky off-road driving, made his way there.

The old highway stood outside of town, and as bad as Gabriel had imagined it might be, it still remained whole. Mostly. They'd just have to drive careful and slow.

"This town seems frozen in time," Sam commented as they drove past, his gaze directed out of the passenger's window.

"It's too dry to rot away the wood," Gabriel commented, "and there's no vines or weeds left to grow in this mess. Even the termites seem to have packed up and left shop."

Sam continued to observe, and Gabriel kept his focus squarely on the road. Not only did he not want a flat tire, he didn't want to be reminded of how quickly disaster could cripple a tiny town. The same thing could happen to Lebanon, or any of the little farming towns left. They could dry up in a flash and turn into a ghost town, lost to the dust, where no one would even remember its name.

"Gabriel..." Sam murmured, leaning forward, his voice high with... alarm?

"Don't worry, kiddo," he said. "I know these potholes are crazy, but I'm taking them slow and paying attention. You're safe."

"No, not that," the angel nearly cut him off. "Look to the west!"

Gabriel brought the truck to a stop, and glanced out the passenger's side window with Sam.

"They're just old houses," he said. "What's wrong?"

"You need solar panels, do you not? And are those not solar panels atop the distant house in the northwestern quarter?"

 _That_ got Gabriel's attention. He peered into the distance, but could only see old, stale houses as far as the eye could see.

"I'm gonna be honest, kiddo. Either you've got some eagle-eye angelic level of vision, or I'm going blind."

Sam chuckled. "Is it not worth a detour to check? The glass panels may have sustained damage from the dust storms, but we can possibly scavenge more glass to refit them."

Gabriel considered it. If they found more solar panels, the sort he could mount atop a house—and he didn't dare hope they might find the whole system, batteries and all—it'd be a gamechanger. No more power blackouts at home… or at least fewer of them.

"There's a reason people don't drive into this town," Gabriel commented, waving at the debris field of destroyed vehicles, spikes of metal, and garbage barely emerging from the dunes of dust and sand. "There are too many deadly obstacles."

Sam peered into the dunes, nodding. "I sense them. I shall guide you around them."

Gabriel leaned back in the seat, and considered it. Forget the trip to the grain elevator. A potential treasure trove lay on the other side of those dunes.

"All right. Lead the way, Sammy," he said.

Carefully, slowly, Gabriel drove the truck through dunes of sand and dust, piled up around abandoned waste, concealing old hazards, the likes of which could kill people. But Sam could sense them lurking beneath the dust, and guided Gabriel around each one. And finally, _finally_ , the house came into view.

Three black, weathered solar panels topped a partially caved-in roof. From Gabriel's angle, they looked bent all to hell, but there had to be parts he could scavenge. The transistors. The silicon cells themselves. Something.

Just how did something as valuable as that stay out here all this time undetect—?

He froze, and turned his head towards Sam.

There could be a _goldmine_ of material out here, just waiting for an opportunistic engineer like Gabriel to come along. Sure, he imagined someone _had_ to have searched through the town in the last decade, but they'd been limited to what they could carry only. Anyone could see the many destroyed trucks and cars to warn them away from venturing too close. And if so...

"Can you do that again?" he asked Sam.

The angel blinked at him in confusion. "Do what, precisely?"

"Guide us around all these obstacles, like you just did."

Sam blinked, and nodded. "Yes, I could, if we make a return trip."

"We just might," Gabriel said, shutting off the ignition. "I'll bet no one has been here for years. I could find... God, Sam, I could maybe find amazing things here. Parts, equipment, things I haven't seen since people picked the landfills clean a decade ago."

Sam considered it, and Gabriel could almost see the gears turning in his head.

"These obstacles have prevented others from entering the town," he commented. "And so, the contents may be untouched."

Gabriel grinned as he hopped out of the truck.

Sam followed him to the old doorway, and Gabriel gave the place an appraising glance. "Not sure how stable it is."

"Stable enough," Sam said. "I will inform you if the structural integrity of the home weakens."

Gabriel shrugged, satisfied with Sam's answer. He pushed hard on the front door, and it broke off its hinges, almost sending him into the floor. A quick, strong hand on his arm yanked him back just before he fell.

"I do not recommend using such force," Sam commented, as if discussing the weather. "The wood may be stable, but the hinges have rusted."

Gabriel found himself focused on the warm hand on his shoulder, then straightened himself out. "Thanks for the warning, jackass."

Sam snorted. "I shall endeavor to predict your reckless behavior in the future, before you act."

Gabriel laughed, full and deep. "Ah. Our friendly archangel has sass. Nice."

Sam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean—?"

Gabriel just chuckled, and pressed forward into the house.

The house, of course, smelled like it hadn't been aired out in ages. The dust and staleness burned in his nose, and he coughed harshly. He made his way towards the steps, and one by one, tested each before putting his full weight on it.

The archangel watched intently, and Gabriel trusted he'd warn him if anything began to cave in.

When he got to the top floor, exposed partially to the sky, he saw those three solar panels, sunk through a half-collapsed ceiling. In the corner of the room, four batteries connected to them, partially covered over with some sort of tarp. They'd probably endured the fury of a thousand dust storms, but Gabriel could salvage parts from them, and build new batteries.

On a desk sat a radio, covered over with a thick, clear satchel. When he pulled it free, the radio seemed undamaged. Out of curiosity, he opened the desk drawer, and found a bulky,waterproof case inside, lugging it out, he set it on the desktop, and unzipped it.

God in Heaven, the case held a laptop computer and a tablet, with all the cords. Could these still work?

Hell, who cared. He could strip them of their parts if they didn't. But something in there still had to turn on.

He glanced back in the direction of the stairs. "Hey, Angelface, you coming up here?"

"I am afraid the floor will not support the both of us," he said. "Did you find anything of interest?"

 _Only everything_ , he thought to himself, but answered, "Yeah. A lot."

First things first. He zipped shut the waterproof case, tucking it under his arm as he grabbed the old radio. Carefully, step-by-step, he made his way back down the stairs to the floor. He returned for the batteries next, checking them for any caustic leaks. They appeared safe, but he wrapped them each in nearby tarps for safety's sake, anyway. He returned upstairs and carefully undid all the wiring on the solar panels, carting armfuls of coated copper wiring downstairs.

During this time, Sam inspected the downstairs level. In the pile of goodies they'd collected, Sam had found silverware, an old, intact television set (the fancy flat screen kind, covered over with a dust cover, of all things… useful for parts), and even located several covered panes of glass.

"Did a hoarder live here?" Gabriel wondered out loud.

"In any event, whomever lived here left quickly," he said. "The table is set, and it may have held food at one point."

Gabriel frowned. The knowledge didn't sit well with him, no matter how great a find the house made. Neither of them had stumbled across a body yet, and it was beyond obvious the house hadn't seen visitors for ages. But still, why would someone up and leave so quickly, but leave behind all these supplies?

Sam strolled over to a cabinet, and opened it to find nothing but a meager selection of dusty dishes inside. No food. Nothing else at all.

Well, someone probably could have grabbed the food at some point, long before the door hinges had rusted into grimy dust.

"Collect those plates and bowls, would you?" Gabriel asked him as he made his way back up the stairs. "We're getting low, and no one has glassware or porcelain anymore."

He set his attention on the solar panels. They were modest in size, and as he wrestled with the first one, he was pleased to find the weather hadn't left them waterlogged. Hopefully, a decade of neglect hadn't fried all the electronics.

Each panel weighed about seventy pounds. Gabriel had hauled stuff up and down the stairs for a while now, leaving him breathless, sweat pouring from his skin. While he managed to get the first panel downstairs, he didn't think he could manage the other two without resting. Surely, with some of the weight relieved from the second floor, it might support Sam's bulk now?

He hauled it out to the back of his truck, laying it flat against the bed. One down, three to go, and time for a rest.

The house had been silent when he'd exited, so he assumed Sam had gone outside somewhere. But as he'd grunted and wrestled with the solar panel, he hadn't seen the angel anywhere.

He cursed under his breath. Just where had Feathers wandered off to?

"Sam!" he called.

"I am in here!" came the muffled, but clear, response... from inside the house. The hell?

Gabriel followed the sound of his voice, glancing just past the kitchen. At first, he didn't see anything there, but as he approached the corner, he found a narrow hallway leading past. Ducking under a tuft of pink, rotten insulation (hey, wonder if he could find some more of _that_ in town somewhere?), he squeezed through the passage. On the other side, he found Sam staring at the floor as though it held the secrets of the universe.

"Something wrong there, Sam?" he asked.

"Indeed," he answered, tapping a foot on what sounded like iron. "Steel panels underlie this floor, but only in this location."

Immediately, Gabriel's heart sped up. He'd been half joking earlier when he'd wondered if they'd stumbled on a survivalist's or hoarder's house, but if they actually had...

Gabriel knelt down, inspecting the dusty floorboards for any sign of change or off-symmetry. "Help me," he admonished. "Look for something out of place, like a switch or lever."

"Why?" he asked, kneeling down to do as Gabriel had instructed.

"Survivalists and other paranoid folks used to hoard supplies, sometimes in cellars or in panic-rooms. Any kind of fortified locations, really." He tugged at a floorboard with no luck. "Can't you see underneath the steel, like you did the dust?"

Sam, who had also dropped to his knees to search, shook his head. "Dust has a light consistency, enough so to float in the air. I cannot yet sense through such solid things as steel." He paused, his shoulders slumping. "If only I yet had my full power about me," he mumbled, "I could pull the floor up by myself."

Gabriel patted his shoulder. "Kiddo, you spotted this place and got us to this goldmine. Don't count yourself out. None of this could have happened without your help."

"I suppose..."

But Gabriel didn't wait for him to finish, and began rooting around in the dust again. After a time, he found a dry-rotted string lurking between two dusty boards. He only just managed to scrape it out, and taking great care, pulled on the string to see where it led him. He didn't dare tug on it too hard.

It led to a panel on the wall, which due to time, had aged enough to allow Gabriel to peel away the old, plaster-like paneling. Behind it sat a spinning door handle, and so he tugged the wheel upright, and with great effort, dragged it open, inch by inch.

Sam moved to help him, but Gabriel waved him off.

"It's just a bit rusted," he groaned. "I've got it."

With a great heave of effort, Gabriel spun the wheel into place with a loud thump. The entire section of the floor they'd just been surveying popped up on one end, just an inch.

Sam made his way to the opening of the hatch in the floor, and moved to lift it... and failed.

"It is heavy," he gasped, breathless.

"Steel usually is," Gabriel commented. "Let me help."

Together, the two of them managed to tug the hatch up and open. The heavy steel crashed upon the wooden floor as they let the hatch fall open the rest of the way. Gabriel had been sure it would break the wooden floor, but surprisingly, it survived.

The new passageway revealed a metal staircase, leading down and around a curve. Grabbing his flashlight from his utility belt, Gabriel moved to hop down to the stairs, but Sam stopped him, a strong hand flat on his chest.

"Allow me to go first," he said. "I can sense danger if it lies ahead."

The gesture stunned Gabriel. While Sam's eyes focused, eagle-eyed, on the open hatch, Gabriel could only stare at the hand on his chest.

"Protective of me, are you?" he retorted.

Sam's eyes darted in his direction, and his expression morphed to one of hurt, lips parted and eyes wide. He didn't quite know why the quip had hurt Sam's feelings, but he didn't enjoy seeing the angel distressed in the slightest.

"Sorry, I'm an ass sometimes," he muttered, apologizing. "A lot of times."

Sam's expression softened, and he lowered his hand. But he didn't glance away.

"I _am_ protective of you Gabriel, and I shall always be. I can never repay the care and protection you and your family gave me freely."

Gabriel's throat went dry, and his mind wandered to all sorts of bad places (not to mention all those times he'd spent jacking off to the thought of big, strong, possessive Sam), and he couldn't speak for quite a long moment.

"Gabriel...? Have I... Did I offend you?"

He shook his head, perhaps too quickly. "No, I just... you surprise me, kiddo." He cleared his throat. Focus. Yes, focus was good. "I just don't think there'll be many monsters waiting for us down here."

Sam's expression turned grim. "I've heard such sentiments before, and seen it end bloody too many times."

Without another word, without even waiting for a response, he snatched the flashlight from Gabriel's hands and descended the staircase.

The fog evaporated from his brain, and Gabriel quickly trailed after him. "Sure, sure. Be all 'Big Bad Angel on the Block.' I don't mind. You can start by hauling down those last two solar panels."

They rounded a corner, and the hallway just seemed to get longer and longer.

"Of course. I would be glad to assist how I may," he said. "But we cannot both remain upstairs at the same time. I must work alone."

"Then how about I investigate the creepy dungeon down here, and you go—." He stopped abruptly, blinking. "Whoa. Holy shit."

The flashlight's beam illuminated another door, this one far more sturdy than the last. Gabriel had no doubt it was a solid block of steel, but he couldn't fathom its thickness. It looked like the impenetrable door of a panic room.

Sam moved the light about, examining the sealed outline of the doorway, all before illuminating the door handle. A key had broken off in the keyhole, but to its left sat a matrix of numbers.

"A puzzle?" Sam queried. "An entrance code of some sort?"

Gabriel grabbed the flashlight from his hand, and stepped closer, examining it. He reached out, running fingertips over gritty, stone squares. On a hunch, he tugged at one, and pulled it free.

"They're manipulable," he breathed. "If someone planned on getting in and out of here without a key, or without power, they may have built this in as a fail-safe."

"How to tell, though?"

Sam sounded impressed, and Gabriel liked that tone of voice. He found himself wanting to impress the angel all by himself.

"Let me stare at it a few minutes," Gabriel commented, transfixed. "If it's a puzzle, maybe I can solve it."

"Your brilliance is unrivaled. If anyone can, you will."

Gabriel blinked, but refused to glance back at Sam. His voice had sounded almost prideful, and he had no doubt the angel meant every word.

He hated how much he liked it.

"I will leave you to it," Sam said, interrupting his errant thoughts. "Call to me if anything happens. I will relocate the solar panels to your truck, and pack up our finds."

"Uh-huh," Gabriel responded, the excitement of the puzzle drawing him in. As he heard Sam's footsteps retreat, he called out after him as an afterthought.

"Don't hurt your leg _or_ your arm," he said, trying to make his voice as stern as possible. "I mean it. Don't you dare."

"I shall take the utmost care," he said. "I do not wish to re-injure myself, either, I assure you."

* * *

Gabriel stared at the matrix for a long while, his thoughts racing. He'd been standing there an hour while Sam finished all the heavy lifting, trying various number combinations, but nothing clicked.

If the square of numbers had a personalized code, then they'd have better luck trying to saw the door down—which was to say, they'd never get inside. A mind-boggling number of possible combinations existed, and if he sat there and tried every one, he'd age hundreds of years before he succeeded.

And how did he know he wouldn't find yet another puzzle on the other side? Or worse, nothing at all?

He could return later and work on it, he told himself. There had to be a solution. Something obvious to the one who built it, but concealed to everyone else.

As a last-ditch effort though, he wanted to try _something_. Perhaps Gabriel made it more complicated than it had to be. So, what simple matrix of orderly numbers could take this shape?

He knew of few matrices more simple—and nigh-invisible to those who had never been exposed to him—than magic squares.

Gabriel blinked. Surely not _that_ simple. Who protected their secret bunker with a three-by-three magic square?

And yet, now that the idea had wormed its way inside his mind, he couldn't leave without trying it. This magic square wouldn't have infinite solutions. No, Gabriel only knew of eight possibilities, all variations on one fundamental solution.

He pulled away the stone blocks, and rearranged them. It had been a long time since he'd tried his hand at a magic square, and even longer since he'd solved one, but he knew the rules. And within a few minutes, he had nearly solved it. Just had to push the last block in.

He held his breath, pushing the stone tablet into place, and...

The door lock thumped loudly, releasing its hold on the mighty door. It opened, slow but steady, its own weight dragging it outwards.

Gabriel felt so elated he could dance.

"Sam! I got it!" he shouted back down the hallway, hoping the angel could hear.

He lugged at the door until it opened entirely, and stepped inside. He waved the flashlight around, and immediately cringed. They'd finally found the resident of the house. The dried husk of his body laid on the floor, one long, cobwebbed skeletal hand clasped around the rung of a chair. His other hand grasped at his chest.

Dust pneumonia. Even down here.

He faintly heard Sam's footsteps in the hallway behind him.

"You opened it!" he shouted. "I knew you could. In the meantime, I've packed away the other items we've found."

He stepped into the room, and his gaze fell to the man on the floor. He fell silent, his expression mournful as he knelt beside him, clearly moved by this stranger's death.

"He died here, all alone," he murmured. "How awful."

Gabriel agreed, but before he could focus upon it too long, his eyes fell upon the outline of another door. He stood, his curiosity roused. This one, thankfully, just had a doorknob. He reached out and tugged it open.

His heart nearly stopped.

"Tell me we have more room in the truck," he murmured, his voice barely a rasp. "Please tell me we have more room."

"We do, and we can make more if we must." Sam stood, his brow furrowed. "Why? What did you find?"

Gabriel turned back to the door, and slowly crossed into the room. In a space not much larger than a typical coat closet sat jars upon jars of food.

He knelt beside one crate of jars, and read the label and date on top, inked in a strange scrawl with permanent marker. 'Pressure canned, rice.' Dated fifteen years prior.

He turned to another crate, all labeled as pressure canned, all in the same scrawl. Beans. Cane sugar. A unopened jar of pure vanilla extract. A case of pure maple syrup. Cheese powder. _A jar of honey_. Two bottles of red wine. A giant bag of iodized salt. Non-fat powdered milk. An entire case of clarified butter. Jars and jars of white flour.

Dazed, he tugged open a crate in the very back, and inside sat pounds and pounds of salted, smoked, and preserved meat.

Gabriel turned back to Sam, his eyes half-glazed. The angel regarded him with focused eyes, the lines of his face taut in apparent concentration.

"Don't suppose you can tell me if the guy who packaged all this did his job correctly?"

Sam knelt beside him, holding out a hand over a crate of jars. "I sense nothing amiss. The food is neither rancid nor infested." He stole a glance at Gabriel. "Shall I search for anything specific?"

"Clostridium botulinum," he breathed. "We've had nasty problems with botulism from self-canned food. If they don't use pressure canning, or if they do it wrong, it never gets hot enough to kill the bacteria. And it loves a clean, dry place to grow in."

Sam shut his eyes, hovering his hand over each crate, one at a time, meticulous. After a long while, his eyes snapped open, a bright smile warming his lips.

"The one who prepared these did indeed perform his job well," he said, his grin growing. "The food is safe to eat."

Gabriel smiled. And then he laughed. And he laughed and laughed until he wept with joy. They had enough food here to feed his entire family for half a year.

They didn't get this lucky, ever.

* * *

It took a magnificent amount of work, but they managed to haul everything back in one go. Even as he drove back home, Gabriel's brain totally planned return trips. The treasure house had more stuff he could scavenge, and the town had many more homes to search. Having Sam along as their danger-detector was going to be awesome.

At first, he'd been doubtful they'd find a way to transport everything back to the farmhouse, but both of them had been unwilling to let the food stay behind. Sam appreciated the importance of it as much as Gabriel did, and the food took priority over everything else in the truck. Gabriel knew, on a rational level, it'd all stay safe if they had to return for the food later. No one would randomly wander there for the first time in two decades and take it all. But even such an unfounded fear wore on him, and so Gabriel couldn't stand to let any of it out of his sight.

They filled up the backseat and floorboards of the truck with the fragile crates of jars, and half the front seat, too. He covered the crate of meat in a tarp he kept in the back of the truck—he'd already wrapped up the solar cell batteries in the tarps he'd found inside—and they made due with the crowded truck.

In the end, the passenger's side floorboard had filled up, too, with Sam's legs awkwardly tucked in between crates. Another crate balanced on the dash in front of him, and another one rested in his arms. It made for a funny sight, especially with the angel all but trapped if he didn't want to break anything.

They needed to keep the seals on these things intact if they didn't want the blight to bleed inside. Gabriel already had plans to try and regrow some of the beans, somehow. He would try, anyway, even if the blight ate it up before it ever had chance to sprout, just as it had all the other plants it'd conquered. Maybe he could make it succeed where others had failed.

Sam guided him on the return trip across the dust-covered obstacle course, and finally they made their way back to the farmhouse. Twilight had passed, and the sky darkened rapidly. All the better, so no one could see what they'd found. One couldn't be too careful.

They arrived back home to find a worried Cas, who'd already put Sati to bed for the night. When Gabriel showed him what they'd found, his jaw dropped open. And for the first time in ages, Cas let forth a carefree, bright laugh, full of joy.

The three of them spent the next two hours carting stuff around. They hauled all the food to the storage cellar on the south end, just beyond the farmhouse's old foundation. All the tools and electronics went into the corner of Gabriel's basement lab, while the dishes, silverware, various cloths, and yarn ended up in Cas' spare storage room.

"I am going to wash all this yarn tomorrow!" he chirped. "I can make so much with all of this..."

"We're going back, too," Gabriel told him, patting him on the back. "Think you can keep an eye on the farm while we're gone? I have to take our danger-detector angel with us."

Cas grinned, his eyes bright enough to light up the entire room. He turned to Sam, and to Gabriel's surprise, wrapped his strong arms around the angel's torso in a hug. Sam froze, his eyes wide, but after a moment he returned the hug, his expression warm.

"Thank you, Samael," Cas said. "You've helped us so much."

They all felt giddy, jittery with excitement over the rarity of their find. But Sam's voice turned serious at Cas' gratitude.

"You and Gabriel nursed me to health in a time when I had nothing to offer, and when I was naught but a drain upon your already low supplies. You cared for me even knowing what I was, when all my brethren in this universe had ever done was cause you strife and anguish."

His voice choked with emotion, and he reached out to clasp both Gabriel's and Cas' shoulders.

"I would not be alive without you," he said to them both. "I could spend all the rest of my life helping you, and it would never be enough to show my gratitude."

Cas shifted closer, tucking himself under Sam's arm in a tighter hug. And well, if Cas got to do it, well, it wouldn't look too strange if Gabriel did it too, right? So he sidled up under Sam's other arm, wrapping his arms around the huge angel, basking in his warmth. The three of them ended up sharing a tired, exhausted, but joyful hug.

And Gabriel might have felt his own eyes burning, but he didn't want to cry again.

In any event, they'd all gotten ridiculously dirty, and needed to go clean up.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: There is some casual and not-so-casual blasphemy in this chapter, enough so that I feel it deserves a warning._

* * *

With Christmas looming just two days away, Cas convinced Gabriel to wait until after the holiday to return to town.

The very next morning, Cas got up earlier than usual and cracked open one of the many small jars of rice, and set about cooking. Gabriel awoke to the smell, and knew at once what Cas was up to. He swore rice had never smelled so amazing, so mouthwatering, and... oh, sweet Jesus, Cas had added some of the clarified butter to it.

Such a simple offering. And yet, Gabriel could not wait until he could eat.

But the best part, the absolute best part, came when Sati bounded downstairs, and gave the three adults in the room a funny glance. Gabriel sat at the table with Sam, their newfound laptop in several pieces on the table as they attempted to discern why it wouldn't turn on.

"What're you cooking, Uncle Cas?" she asked, hovering by him at the stove. "It smells funny."

"Don't take the lid off the saucepan," he told her. "It's rice."

She frowned, the lines of her forehead scrunching together. "What's rice?"

Gabriel couldn't contain his excitement. "It's one of the crops we lost before you were born, Sati. But Sam and I found some last night."

She didn't perk up with any excitement, but she did give the saucepan a suspicious stare. She glanced between Cas and Gabriel a few times.

"Can I try some?"

"You may have an entire bowl, if you like it," Cas told her. "Now, sit down. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

She plopped down in her seat, staring at the electronic parts scattered on the east end of the table.

"Uncle Cas is going to yell at you for doing science on his kitchen table," she said, her voice grave.

Her serious tone made Gabriel crack up, and when he did, Sam snickered as well.

"I've already lectured them," Cas filled in, chuckling himself. "I'll allow it. Once."

This only made the pair howl with laughter.

"What're you two working on?" she asked. "What's so funny?"

Sam managed to clear his throat enough to speak. "Nothing is funny, Sati. We all feel quite cheerful. We found food and new tools."

"Oh. Anything I can help with?"

"Maybe," Gabriel told her. "We don't know what all we have yet, but I'm sure we can find something for you to do." He winked at her.

Cas scooped fluffy rice into clean bowls and set them at their seats. Gabriel and Sam had to leave their newfound computer at the table's end and move their seats to their places.

For a long moment, Sati stared down at the rice, brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's white," she said. "Why isn't it yellow?"

Gabriel snorted. "Food used to be all colors, sweetheart."

She pushed it around with her fork for a minute before risking a tiny bite. She chewed, her eyes narrow. But after seconds, her expression melted into something akin to surprise, and she dug into the rice in earnest.

With Sati clearly enjoying herself, Gabriel took his spoon in hand and just stared at his steaming bowl for a moment. Slowly, he took a spoonful, and slid the grains of rice into his mouth.

No rice in the history of rice had ever tasted so amazing. He could taste the starch, the subtle sweetness, the richness of the clarified butter Cas had added. It was damn near a religious experience. The closest thing he'd ever had, anyway.

Gabriel had always liked food. He enjoyed sweet and bitter, salty and sour, the entire variety. Things had been easier on the children who only knew corn, who had no idea of the taste of chocolate, or the sweetness of apples and ripe berries. The children didn't know the joy of fresh orange juice, and rarely knew of meat or milk or dairy. Sati certainly had never tasted any of those, except as a baby when Kali had nursed her.

But this? This felt like heaven for Gabriel. Just something other than the same old stuff they'd been eating for a decade. Something other than corn, and it tasted glorious.

Sam seemed to eat his with careful reserve. Surely, he didn't intend to save it all for them, did he? He seemed just the sort of self-sacrificing type. Gabriel would have to have a talk with him about it later.

* * *

Christmas came, and everyone focused on making it the greatest holiday possible for Sati's sake. They tried not to waste their new-found resources and cook a huge feast, but, well... for what they'd become used to, it definitely _looked_ like a feast. They had bread made of flour and topped with butter, sweet vanilla cake drizzled with honey, and rice with cheese. They each ate dinner with a small serving of smoked venison, and steaming cups of atole sweetened with cinnamon and cane sugar.

It was the best meal Gabriel could ever remember eating in his life. Sati went on about it for _hours_.

Cas, with Sam's help, had worked in record time with the yarn and cloth they'd scavenged. They unraveled it all, cleaned it, dyed it, and Cas stitched together a stuffed unicorn for Sati just in time. He knitted it in shades of blue and purple, with violet-button eyes, and a horn stitched together from a scrap of golden fabric.

She went crazy over it, more than any of the other gifts the men gave her. She had given it three different names before the night ended. She hugged and cuddled it, and wouldn't let it out of her clutches, even as she opened her other gifts.

Sam had made her a doll out of corn husks, twine, scraps of fabric for clothes, and dried corn silk for hair. Gabriel gave her a whole stack of children's books (a rare find at the local market), and a board game he'd picked up in town. Determined to outdo them all, in addition to the unicorn, Cas gave her a soft, gray robe to wear on cold nights, and two pairs of colorful socks to keep her feet warm.

She buzzed to and fro, playing with her unicorn and doll, flipping through some of the books. She skipped around on a sugar high until she passed out on the couch, curled up between Cas and Sam as they read to her from one of her new books.

They all put her to bed, with Sam carrying her upstairs. Even in her exhausted, barely awake state, she still wouldn't part with the stuffed unicorn. Cas sang a Christmas carol to her as Sam and Gabriel looked on. She fell asleep within minutes.

Afterwards, the trio tiptoed back downstairs, choosing to ignore the mess for now. Cas retrieved one of the bottles of wine, and Gabriel decided they should crack it open to celebrate. Christmas only came once a year, after all, and the wine had aged well enough.

At first, Sam declined to drink, claiming Cas and Gabriel should enjoy it all, but Gabriel refused to drink if Sam wouldn't. Cas joined his protest, and so Sam relented.

And then the real surprises began to unfold.

Cas gave Gabriel a present: A bathrobe made from the soft, white yarn he'd saved his money for all summer, and a floppy, wide-brimmed hat to shield his skin from the sun. And four pairs of warm, thick socks.

"You're the best brother, Cas," Gabriel told him, feeling the warm haze of the wine behind his eyes.

Cas, who'd also gotten a bit drunk if his expression was anything to go by, chuckled. "I know."

Sam watched this all unfold in silence, a warm smile creasing his lips. But when Cas turned to him with a present, the angel stared on, slack-jawed.

"For me?" he breathed, and reached forward, taking it in his hand.

Gabriel had no idea Cas had been planning presents, and quite frankly, he felt embarrassed. He had nothing for either of them. Nothing at all. He watched as Sam carefully unwrapped the package, taking care with the paper not to rip it. Gabriel thought about shouting at him, because ripping open a present was half the fun.

Sam succeeded in short order, and pulled free an airy, white shirt, thin and durable, and just about the right size for Sam. A blue and black flannel shirt followed next, also fitted just right for the giant angel. And four pairs of thick, comfy socks.

"Castiel, I do not know what to say," he breathed, his voice a bit slurred. "Thank you. I... I am embarrassed to admit I have nothing for you."

"I don't make things expecting stuff in return," Cas said. "These items aren't any different than what I make all year round anyway."

"And yet," Sam breathed. "I thank you."

Silence fell upon them, and Gabriel took another long drink of the wine. It tasted tart on his tongue, with the sour, heavy feel of alcohol burning down his throat. He stared at the glass bottle, and realized the three of them had drank half of it away.

"I don't have anything for either of you," Gabriel offered, his voice quiet. "I... I'm sorry."

"Gabriel," Cas told him, "you single-handedly keep this farm running. You can repair anything. You engineer combines and planters to run themselves, without which we couldn't maintain this farm. And your genius even gives us electricity, which so many do not have. _You_ are gift enough."

Damn. Gabriel turned away, teary-eyed. Definitely the bestest brother ever.

"I agree with Castiel," Sam said. "And I certainly would not sit here, alive, without the benefit of your kindness and care," Sam told him. "You owe me nothing."

Gabriel had no idea what to say, so he just took another long sip of his wine.

Some time passed and they fell into easy conversation, and Cas topped off Sam's wine glass again, and it became clear their angel had gotten kind of sloshed. But then, all three of them were, so what did it matter? They'd all just wake up with hangovers if they didn't take care to hydrate themselves. Big deal. They had plenty of water.

As the night wound down, Cas stumbled to his feet, his empty wineglass securely on the table.

"Sam, I need your help," he said, his voice remarkably clear and even. "There's a tradition... I need you to help."

"Of course," the angel slurred, his voice heavy and unclear. "What... what do you need?"

Cas fished around in his pocket, and tugged out something green and red, and with a plasticky sheen. He approached Gabriel and set it on his head, and at once he realized what Cas had done.

Mistletoe. The bastard brother of his had actually fished out a plastic, faded branch of fake mistletoe.

He should probably feel pissed, because it obviously took planning, and Cas decidedly had not been drunk when he planned it, but... well. Gabriel couldn't find it in him to care. He just leaned back in the armchair, his eyes glancing up, then over at Cas.

"You're actually fucking with me right now," he said flatly, in as stable of a voice as he could manage.

"Not at all," Cas said, wobbling over to Sam. "But I'm not the one that's going to kiss you."

And no matter how drunk Gabriel had gotten, his brain connected those dots in a hurry.

"Uh, Cas... I don't think Sam—."

"Now Sam," Cas slurred, leaning down over the back of Sam's chair. "There's a tradition in this world. Anyone who gets touched by mistletoe is under a curse, but a simple kiss can take it away. And I remembered how it's been _ages_ since Gabriel's had a mistletoe kiss, so why not show our appreciation for all his hard work and help him out?"

Gabriel thought he might die of embarrassment, but when he finally got the nerve to glance over at Sam, the angel seemed anything but embarrassed. He appeared thoughtful, if dazed, as though he might consider it.

"In my world," the angel gurgled, pushing himself to sit up, "the tradition is... um... anyone caught standing under the mistletoe must be kissed."

Gabriel snorted. "If it worked the same way here, I'd have gotten plenty more kisses in my life."

Sam leaned forward, his head tilted to the side. He stood, wobbling on his feet, but definitely making his way towards Gabriel.

The giant angel abruptly leaned down, hands braced on the arms of the chair, inches from his face, and Gabriel's heart nearly stopped in his chest. Oh god. This would kill him. He would die. Yep.

One hand reached up, brushed hair from his face... and at the last moment, Sam kissed him on his cheek. His lips felt warm against his skin, and softer than he could have ever imagined. He exhaled through his nose, breath hot against his cheek, and Gabriel thought he smelled of spice and wine.

When Sam pulled away, a silly, drunken grin on his lips, Gabriel almost felt disappointed.

"Will that suffice to remove the curse?" he asked Cas.

Gabriel glanced at his brother just in time to catch the devilish smirk. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

And then his little brother had the gall to wink at Gabriel.

He didn't think he liked his brother playing matchmaker. He'd try to figure it out in the morning, when he was sober.

* * *

Gabriel spent a long time thinking about the kiss. He really, _really_ regretted he'd been too drunk to pay more attention to it.

But he _remembered_ it, as much of it as he could. It had been an amazing Christmas, and Gabriel hadn't thought those sorts of perfect days could happen anymore. They'd feasted, traded presents, and he'd gotten kissed. He just sort of wished Sam had gone for his lips instead of his cheek.

He remembered the smouldering hazel of his eyes; the blue-green irises, rimmed with golden flecks, like some kind of wild sunflower. Sure, Gabriel had spent plenty of time staring at Sam, but not while the archangel gazed at his eyes so intently.

Sam didn't seem the least bit bothered by the whole affair, and went on as though nothing unusual had happened. And hell, he probably didn't think anything strange had happened at all. Just a silly tradition, and they'd all been drunk, anyway.

Gabriel couldn't even muster the effort to get mad at Cas for the whole stunt.

They made several trips back to the ghost town, each time scavenging more old electronics and supplies. The old, collapsed house had many useful things still. Between him and Sam they picked the place clean, and moved on to other abandoned homes, scouring for anything not damaged or destroyed by the weather. Gabriel found glass panels, perfect for building brand new solar panels. He found power tools sealed in some basements, and though he'd have to get creative, he knew he could get them working.

The first return trip, just days after Christmas, had Gabriel on edge. His dreams had cranked up to overdrive since the kiss, and he'd been more tired than ever. It seemed his nights continued to fill with dreams and nightmares of Sam, leaving him flustered and sleepless, so he'd been avoiding him for days. But he had take the angel along if he wanted to get past the dangerous, dust-obstructed barriers.

But Sam had seemed in good spirits, chatting lightly about things in town, asking questions of Gabriel, and he soon found himself relaxing. Yeah, things were fine.

The easy, warm mood settling between them felt wonderful, but it did terrible things for Gabriel's libido. After years and years of no prospects and finally giving up on ever finding a real mate in life, he'd tried to put all of that on the backburner. Oh sure, he spent plenty of time with his left hand, but still. He relegated it to an itch he sometimes had to scratch, and as time passed, he felt the burden of loneliness grow heavier.

It wasn't that Cas and Sati didn't make for good company, because they did, and Gabriel's world had long revolved around his family. But although he'd tried to squash the desire for a mate in his life, for love, for joy and happiness, it hadn't worked. In the quiet hours of the night, when he found himself working alone in his basement lab or lying awake in bed, he felt the sting of loneliness the worst. He'd fallen a little in love once, but never had there been anything deep or meaningful about his connections with lovers. Kali had been the closest thing to a kindred spirit he'd ever encountered, but considering he didn't feel attraction for women, wasn't that just his luck? They'd only slept together because they'd both been super-hammered and miserable about the end of the world—but they had made an amazing kid, so he had no regrets.

And then, Sam fell out of the sky. Hell, he crash-landed in Gabriel's world. In front of his truck.

And Gabriel's first instinct had been to leave him there, shivering and in agony.

It shamed him now, to think of how he'd almost done such an inhumane thing just because he'd been afraid of angels. If Sati hadn't been along, if it had just been him and Cas, he shivered to think of what they might have done.

And this man, this archangel, whom Gabriel had considered leaving to die, had wormed his way into every facet of Gabriel's life.

The flavor of Gabriel's loneliness had changed. As December rolled into January, which rolled into February, the tall angel worked the fields in earnest. He came in as late as Gabriel and Cas often would, just as dusty and dirty and tired as the rest of them. And while Gabriel and Cas would sometimes grumble about toiling in the cold (okay, so mostly Gabriel), Sam never complained once.

And damn it all, the work got easier. Having three hands to cover all two-hundred acres of farmland made the work far easier than when they only had two hands. They coordinated with each other over Gabriel's shoddy walkie-talkies while working. Sam had picked up the whole routine at lightning speed.

He began to visit town with Gabriel, Cas, and Sati, too, (Gabriel cautiously introduced him as their friend from down in Arizona who'd come to help them work the farm). He made friends easily. Cas introduced him to Dean and his daughter Emma. Apparently, Cas had been stealing away to see _Dean_ on Fridays. Huh. Gabriel had been sure he'd been sneaking off to see Meg.

Sati dragged Sam into the schoolhouse to introduce him to her teacher, Ms. Milton. The teacher's assistant, Ruby, seemed to take quite a shine to Sam. Gabriel felt all the more uncomfortable when Sam confessed that he knew his own universe's Ruby well, and they'd been close friends (not to mention that she'd been an angel, too).

Gabriel tried not to feel jealous, he honestly did. But he might have made a pointed effort to avoid places he thought Ruby might be when Sam rode along to town.

And as mid-February came around, and the cornstalks stood taller even than Sam, and bright, yellow ears of corn slowly dried inside, Gabriel realized he couldn't imagine facing another day without Sam in his life. As time rolled on, he found himself given to all sorts of romantic notions he would have once found silly.

Once, he found Sam with dirt all over his face, digging around the base of a cornstalk, and he felt awestruck with how lovely he looked. His hair billowed in the wind, not unlike the cornsilk hidden within the husks. His strong hands, so much stronger than they'd been so many months ago, could work wonders. In so many ways, he resembled the bright sunflowers that once grew wild in the prairie, peaceful and kind and beautiful. Before the blight had taken them, too.

As he stole glances at Sam over the winter months, he worried the blight would swallow Sam up along with the rest of them, too. And of course it would. Sam couldn't leave. If they couldn't fix the blight soon, the angel would be one of the last ones standing, but he _would_ eventually suffocate.

But when he worked alongside Sam, most of the time Gabriel could forget his worries. The tiniest flicker of hope grew in him, and every time Sam turned his warm smile on him, it grew stronger.

But deep inside, if he admitted it to himself, he felt lonelier than ever.

Sam sat with him in his lab, either helping him or observing with great interest. No one had watched him do science since Kali, and she only had a passing interest in his experiments most times. Sam ate with them at their table. Sam toiled for their food along with the rest of them. Sam did everything asked of him.

Sam had become a constant presence in his life. Always just within reach, but Gabriel could never touch him, not in the way he so desperately wanted to. He had fallen so deeply in love, had become so dependent on Sam's company and his kindness and everything else wonderful about the angel. He didn't _dare_ take the chance of pushing him away. What if Sam felt uncomfortable? What if he _left_? Or maybe even worse, what if for a lack of options, he stayed, and everything would become colder than it had ever been?

Gabriel had never felt like this about anyone. But he knew a one-sided thing when he saw it, so he had no illusions. Sam had a mate out there, somewhere far away in his own universe. And so, like all those long-held desires for love he'd had for himself, he tried to tuck it away somewhere deep and hidden. He continued to work on Sam's Grace, hoping he could find a way to restore it.

Sam thought the whole experiment impossible, but Gabriel knew he could figure it out. Even as he worked through the complexities of the Grace, sorting out the trashed, extra-universal parts shred by agonizing shred, he had to swallow down bitter jealousy. But he knew he couldn't have Sam, and the angel deserved to find the mate who'd he'd longed for for eons. And if Gabriel could send Sam on to happiness, then he would do it.

He didn't know how he'd manage to fill the awful void Sam would leave behind, but somehow, Gabriel would. He'd survive as long as he could, until the blight took out the population. Or just maybe until Sam sent help back to them.

If only Cas hadn't pulled the mistletoe stunt. But would it have really changed anything if he hadn't?

But even now, Gabriel had dreams about the angel. In dreamland, the angel felt warm—burning hot—even without his own Grace to light him inside. The Grace of this universe had seeped in, and even though it held only miniscule power for Sam or any other angel, it turned him into an absolute furnace… at least in dreamland.

Sometimes, the dreams became so intense he couldn't sleep more than an hour or two a night.

Now he knew why the old poets had equated love to madness. He couldn't see much difference. Something told him this level of emotion couldn't be normal, that things should not feel so _intense_ , but what other explanation did he have?

He drowned in love, and thought he'd lose his head in the process.

* * *

One morning, late in February, after Cas had taken Sati to school, Gabriel sat shivering at the kitchen table. He wrapped himself in a blanket as he drank his atole, and did his absolute best to ignore Sam's stare.

"Gabriel," he breathed, "you do not look well. Are you ill?"

He finally lifted his eyes, and saw a worried frown on the angel's lips, his brow pinched together in concern.

"Can't you use your angel senses and figure it out?"

"No," he answered, seriously. "Whatever limitations your hunters cast upon the Grace of this universe, it prevents angels from peering inside a person's body or mind unwelcomed."

Gabriel sighed. "Well, I did say 'yes' to you once."

Sam bristled. "I do not intrude into the minds of others. It is wrong."

Gabriel smiled faintly, his lips hovering at the rim of his cup. "I wish we'd had more angels like you around here."

"You are avoiding my question."

Gabriel snorted, and took a deep drink of his warm atole. It felt amazing as it slid down his throat, momentarily chasing away the chill of the winter morning.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'll be fine, anyhow."

"So there _is_ something amiss," Sam finished, and he leaned forward on the table, closer. "Please, Gabriel. Castiel worries for you, and even Sati has noticed."

Gabriel blinked. "Noticed? Noticed what?"

"Have you not observed your reflection in a mirror? As the winter has progressed, you've grown paler. You work endlessly, but never rest. You have lost weight."

He hummed in response, dismissive, even as he knew it wouldn't satisfy the angel. Finally, after a long moment, he said, "It's private."

Sam huffed. "It will no longer be 'private' if it kills you, and you leave Sati fatherless."

Before he thought it through, he responded. "She wouldn't be fatherless. She'd have you."

Sam's eyes widened the very same instant Gabriel realized what he'd said. And then, those bright eyes heated with anger, and Gabriel wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Why are you so careless with your life?" Sam growled, his eyes narrow. "Why are you so flippant about your own health, yet you agonize over the health of others? Why do you think so little of yourself? Can you truly not see your value?"

Gabriel stared back down at his cup, at the grains of masa falling out of solution as the beverage cooled, congealing into a gummy layer at the bottom.

He'd do anything to not have to answer those questions.

But Sam sat there, imposing and angry, and if Gabriel were going to spill his guts to anyone, why not the angel who'd never tell his secrets? Sure, he couldn't tell him about how much he loved him, but...

"I grew up in a Catholic home," he murmured, bottom lip pressed lightly against the rim of his cup. "We used to go to these booths and confess all our sins to a priest, who would prescribe penance and forgive us."

Sam tilted his head, a frown on his lips. "I am familiar with the practice, yes."

"If I confess to you, an archangel, can you forgive me?"

The haze of anger faded from Sam's expression. "Gabriel, I... I do not have that power. You must forgive yourself." He paused, clasping his hands together. "But... if you would like to follow the tradition of confession, I would speak with you, and keep your confidence."

Gabriel finally set his cup down on the table, and drew his legs up into the chair, wrapping the tails of the blanket around his knees. Weakly, he made the sign of the cross, and his eyes fell upon the table.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Forgive me, Holy Archangel, for I have sinned before God," he breathed. "My last confession was... I... I don't even remember. I think I was a teenager."

Sam unclasped his hands, resting one in front of him.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit," he said, and Gabriel thought maybe he recited a Psalm or something. "Tell me of your burdens, and I shall pray with you before the God of this world."

Something about that voice, so calm and comforting and reassuring, broke something in Gabriel, and he felt tears stinging at the edges of his eyes.

"I've always been selfish," he breathed. "All my life, I thought of nothing but myself and the fun I could have. My little brother went off and became a hunter like the rest of the family, and I thought he was an idiot. And I... I never treasured him until this last decade, and I wish so much I had been there for him, that I'd been a big brother to him when it might have mattered."

Gabriel fell silent.

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

Yeah, this sounded more and more like an actual confession to Gabriel. Sam's scripture seemed a bit off, but different universes and all, so.

"I was a fool. I didn't pay attention when the blight began. If I'd..." His head drooped, the words dying in his throat. "And I've watched everyone die. After Purgatory, Heaven, and Hell were all sealed up, everyone started dying in droves. Starvation, dust pneumonia. I couldn't even save Kali."

He fell silent again, refusing to glance up, refusing to meet Sam's eyes. "And now, I've been an awful father to Sati. She won't live the full, healthy life I wanted for her. She'll either starve or suffocate."

Sam didn't respond for a moment. "You feel guilt in these things, but they are not of your doing. It is easy to blame oneself for sins they have not committed. Lucifer made this blight, not you. And all the angels left, breaking their promises to help. You hold no blame for any of this."

Gabriel scoffed. "Well, I sure feel like it." He leaned down on the table, head on his splayed arm.

Sam shifted just at the corner of Gabriel's vision, and he felt the warmth of a hand on his own. He looked up to see the angel leaning near, his eyes unreadable.

"Peace I leave with you," he began. "My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me."

Gabriel blinked. What? He'd never heard _that_ in confession before.

"For even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you."

His tired brain had trouble understanding what Sam intended, what he meant.

"For penance," Sam continued, settling back in his chair without missing a beat, "I prescribe proper sleep, so your health might increase."

Gabriel sighed. "Amen."

For a long moment, they sat in silence.

"Will you sleep now? Truly?" Sam asked him.

Gabriel said nothing for a long while. He didn't know if he should discuss this particular issue.

"I can't," he finally said.

"Gabriel," the angel sighed. "I know you have much work to do, but—."

"No," he interrupted. "You don't understand. I literally cannot sleep more than a few hours at a time."

Sam's face contorted in alarm, and he leaned forward. "Why not?"

Gabriel turned away, dream imagines setting in his mind of the archangel touching him, stroking him, kissing him…

"I can't talk about it," he gruffed.

"Please, Gabriel, if something ails you—."

"It's in my head," he said. "It's private. I'm just... preoccupied."

Sam fell silent, and for a long moment, said nothing. Gabriel had thought he might let it go.

"This may sound like a strange question," Sam murmured, hesitant, "but... are you dreaming of me?"

Gabriel nearly dropped his cup. He made a magnificent mess in the process, and quickly ducked out of his blanket to wipe up his spilled atole with a towel.

When he did not answer Sam, when he had no idea what to say, the angel seemed to take it as confirmation.

"I suspected, but..." His head drooped. "Forgive me. I am likely to blame."

Gabriel swiped at the table furiously, anything to keep from meeting those warm eyes. "How so? If you're not invading my mind, how—."

"Do you recall the song you heard when I touched your soul?" Sam cut him off.

At once, Gabriel recalled it: the soft, lilting melody of Sam's True Voice, interspersed with tonal chords, like starsong itself.

"I remember," he said. Sitting back down, he dared to stare up at the angel, who seemed embarrassed.

"I said it was a private matter," he said. "While that was somewhat true, it was... also not entirely true. It is I who should ask for your forgiveness. I simply... I did not understand at the time, but..."

The angel seemed flustered, lost for words, and Gabriel stared on in confusion.

"Whatever it is, it's all right, Sam. I mean, I'm just having bad dreams, that's all."

When Sam didn't answer him, when the angel glanced away, Gabriel began to worry. He didn't care about his own problems, not anymore. He just couldn't stand to see Sam so conflicted.

"What did the song mean, Sam?"

The angel blinked slowly, and lifted fearful eyes to Gabriel. He opened his mouth to speak—.

Cas burst through the front door, out of breath and wheezing. It shocked Gabriel so badly he actually fell out of his chair. Sam leapt to his feet in alarm.

"Jesus Christ, Cas!" Gabriel huffed. "Trying to give the both of us heart attacks?"

"Worse might be in store for us all," he said, his face grim.

Gabriel still felt dazed, both from falling out of his chair and from the conversation Cas had just interrupted. But Sam took several paces forward, his face a mask of pure concentration.

"What has happened?" he asked.

Cas glanced between them. "After dropping Sati off, I drove to the eastern farm to talk to Dean, but as I approached, I could see clear signs of blight everywhere. He claims they went to sleep last night and all was well, but when they awoke this morning, half their winter corn crop had signs of blight."

Gabriel stumbled to his feet, his heart beating fast. "Did you see anything in our corn?"

"I saw nothing in the darkness on the trip out," he said. "But on the return trip, yes. We must move quickly."


	19. Chapter 19

They fought the blight for days.

Everything else fell by the wayside. The blight had spread across all of Kansas in a single night, and the sky grew thick and dark with smoke as every farm tried to burn away the blighted corn to save the healthy stalks. School let out. Sati sat at home, in the farmhouse, worried and keeping herself busy while Sam, Cas, and Gabriel fought to save the winter corn that was so close to harvesting.

The trio barely slept, barely even ate. Sati cooked polenta and cornbread for them, and they would come in, eat, and nap. They had the light of a full moon on their side, at least, so they took shifts napping and working.

Sam could go the longest without sleep, and recovered the most with only a few hours sleep. Usually they went down for about three or four hours before rushing back to work, but Sam could get away with only two hours of rest. Once, when Cas and Gabriel had thoroughly exhausted themselves, Sam stayed awake for forty-eight straight hours working, ordering them to sleep as much as they could. They couldn't rest more than a few hours, though, not knowing of the war raging just outside. So they hopped up, and got back to work.

Gabriel felt terror, _mortal_ terror, as he watched the blight slowly spread through his entire farm. They burned away acres upon acres, hoping to stop the spread, to at least slow it down. He didn't have time to angst or worry, only to feel grateful for Sam's help. He and Cas could have never done this alone.

But in the end, the corn was a lost cause. The blight consumed it all within a week and a half. And not only his corn, but everyone's, everywhere.

And so, they burned it all down. Razed it to the ground, hoping to kill as many blight spores as possible. But they would never get them all, and unless someone developed a new strain of winter corn, this crop was history, just like all the others.

There just went a third of the world's food supply.

How long until it consumed the spring corn? The late summer corn? Had they finally run out of luck? Gabriel had known it was coming, but he hadn't thought it would happen so soon.

He stood outside, in the darkness of night, and watched the horizon glow orange with distant fires; watched other farmers burn their blighted crops into ash. Watched as the future of the world went up in fire, as the very oxygen they breathed became more scarce.

He heard footsteps behind him. A hand—Cas' hand—rested on his shoulder.

"It's freezing out here," he said. "Come inside."

Gabriel said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was done. They were done. Everyone was done.

"Please, brother. You'll get sick out here."

"What does it matter?" he rasped, more of a statement than a question. "We're all on the verge of starving to death."

Cas flinched, but said nothing.

Gabriel took a deep breath, and pulled himself together enough to think about something other than the imminent end of the world.

"How's Dean?" he asked Cas. "How's his daughter?"

"Dean acts strong, but he is deeply affected," he answered. "Despite all our attempts to keep the children from sharing our worry, his daughter is as frightened as Sati." He paused. "I had thought of going to his home tonight, and taking Sati with me to play with Emma. I thought it might take their minds off of things, but..."

"Don't stay on my account," Gabriel answered, voice flat. "I'll kick back, have a drink."

Because he felt like drinking. He really, _really_ felt like getting flat-drunk would make him forget, just for a while. Yes, getting hammered sounded like a fine idea.

"The idea of you drinking worries me," Cas said, voice grave.

"Sam will be here," he said. "He won't let me drink until I kill my liver."

 _Unfortunately_ , he added silently.

Cas sighed, and turned to the farmhouse. "I'll have Sati pack an overnight bag. We'll return tomorrow evening, sometime."

Gabriel hummed a response, but could not break his gaze from the freakish glow of the horizon. He stood there a long time, maybe hours. He faintly heard the doors shutting on Cas' car, and the hum of the old engine as it trekked up the distant road.

And then, other than the wind, the world fell silent.

After some time, he felt a presence at his back. No noise, no footsteps, just warmth.

"I'm not going inside," he said flatly.

Sam sighed. "You will."

"You going to make me?"

"Yes," he answered.

Gabriel finally looked away from the horizon, to the angel outlined in the waxing moonlight behind him.

"If you will recall," Sam said, "I am stronger than you, and I shall carry you if I must. But you have stood here watching these hellish fires long enough."

Gabriel felt so small, so tiny, so insignificant. So powerless.

"If I go inside," he breathed, eyes stinging, "I'll just drink myself into oblivion."

"I am aware," Sam told him. "Castiel warned me."

He huffed. "So, you guys going to take the booze away from me, too?"

"I will not stop you," Sam said. "But I shall not allow you to drink yourself into alcohol poisoning, either." He waited, head tilted. "Do you find those terms fair?"

"Yeah," he grimaced, and brushed past Sam on his way inside.

* * *

He'd distilled ethanol from corn many times, and kept it around the farmhouse for its many uses (and in the past he'd gone through the process of making proper moonshine, storing it away for proper drinking). He'd used ethanol primarily as a disinfectant, as medicine for wounds, and various lab applications, and he'd gotten his fair share of use out of the stuff while treating Sam's injuries in the last year. And of course, he'd gotten drunk on the high-proof moonshine before, but doing so in front of Sati never turned out well. So, apart from the jovial evening back during Christmas, he didn't drink around her.

Except now, Sati had gone somewhere else for the night, and the world would totally end within a year or three. Gabriel just needed to forget. Just for a while.

He found himself in the sitting room, on the old, ratty couch Cas had padded over with some sort of cover to make it more comfortable. The same couch he and Sam had taken turns bleeding on when the intruders had broken into the house.

Now, he sat upright—though only because the angel sat next to him, propping him up—throwing back shot after shot of the high-proof alcohol. And he kind of hoped Sam didn't plan on stopping him.

Just as he had the thought, the angel reached out and touched his wrist. "Slow down." He shoved a cup of water at him.

The room spun around him, and his reflexes had become less than stellar. He'd picked a glass easy enough to hold while he drank alcohol, but the big cup of water confused him, somehow. Finally, Sam gave up trying to hand it to him and pushed it towards his lips. Some of it ran down his chin, but Gabriel did his best to drink.

He promptly resumed with getting more drunk.

"You shall regret drinking so much in the morning," Sam cautioned.

It seemed like caution, at least. He couldn't tell for the spinning room and the funny, detached feeling in his head. But it sort of needed an explanation. Maybe. Did he have to explain things like this? Maybe if he just yelled at Sam, he'd let him keep drinking.

Hah. Gabriel wasn't nearly drunk enough to fall for such a line of thought.

"I need to forget," he slurred, spilling some of the moonshine as he gestured with a leaden arm.

Sam, to his credit, just stared at him, his eyes soft. "Forget… what? The blight?"

"Yesh. Bli...blight."

Gabriel stared at his choices in alcohol (he'd dragged out both moonshine and the last of the corn whiskey), and poured himself an entire _glass_ of whiskey. He downed it in several large gulps, and let himself flop against the back of the couch, limbs splayed comfortable and relaxed in all directions. One of his arms had found a resting place in Sam's lap, but who cared? Sam didn't seem to.

"No," the angel said, and his voice turned dark. Worried. "That is not all."

Gabriel huffed, and swatted at Sam's chest with the arm closest. He missed, and sort of swiped at Sam's arm instead, but whatever. Point made.

"Don't," Gabriel asked. "Just… just let me—."

"Castiel requested I watch over you tonight," Sam interrupted, "and I shall not fail in that task."

He groaned, leaning forward, managing to prop his elbows on his legs and bury his face.

"Pour me another drink, and maybe I'll talk about stuff. They don't call it liquid courage for nothing."

Gabriel's eyes slid shut, all his concentration focused on not falling face-forward into the table. To his great astonishment, he heard the swirl of liquid pouring into a glass, and opened his eyes to see Sam doing exactly as he'd requested.

Briefly, he considered he actually _might_ regret this in the morning. If he got _too_ drunk and started blabbering, who knew what he could fuck up?

But the thought vanished, evaporated away as Sam offered him the glass. Gabriel glanced between his hands and the glass, which he knew Sam held stationary in the air. He blinked as the cup seemed to teeter back and forth, and reached for it. Sam pressed it into his open hands, and closed his fingers around it, stabilizing his grip until Gabriel could rest the glass on his leg.

He leaned back against the couch again, carefully nursing sips of the corn whiskey. This stuff got him far more drunk in way less time than wine ever could. Normally, he'd feel delight at getting this hammered, but he felt stranger than ever. He had spots in his vision, and couldn't quite tell what was real anymore.

"Everything," he rasped, daring to look at the angel—or trying to, at least. Sam didn't seem real anymore, either. Just a reflection of some play of light in a mirror. Gabriel had to be dreaming.

But his eyes narrowed like the real Sam's might, a little curl of confusion in his brow.

"You… you asked me what I wanted to for… forget," he slurred, struggling to speak. "I want to forget _everything_." He downed the rest of the glass, and struggled to replace it on the coffee table. Not-Sam helped him, and for a Not-Sam, his hands felt quite real.

Jesus. He'd gotten way too drunk, and some of the alcohol hadn't even hit him yet. Maybe he should stop. The alcohol hadn't worked. He couldn't forget anything. It all just became worse.

"What of Sati?" Not-Sam asked. Or… Real-Sam?

Wait, was any of this even happening? Or had he fallen into another one of those vivid, awful dreams? He couldn't tell anymore.

"My… my Sati," he blubbered. "Oh, my poor, sweet girl." He felt his eyes stinging with tears, and then his face became wet with them, his body shaking. "She's going to die… die here. Soon. We all are. She's not… she's not going to grow up, or… or ever see the ocean, or fall in love, or—."

"Shhh," Not-Sam breathed, and the not-angel wrapped his long arms around Gabriel, pulling him into the warmth of his embrace.

"It is not over yet," he breathed against Gabriel's hair. "There is yet time. You must not give up."

This was a dream. It had to be. Any moment now, Gabriel would wake up. Real-Sam would never touch him, not like this. No archangel, especially a holy one like Samael, would ever embrace him.

"It is over," he whimpered, digging his fingers into the flannel of Dream-Sam's shirt. "It's all over. We're done. We're… we're out of time."

"No," Sam hissed. "There is more time. Not much, perhaps, but the battle is not lost this day. Not yet."

His hand rested on the back of Gabriel's head, large and warm and solid against his skull. He acted as though Gabriel might break.

Well, Dream-Sam never minded how broken he truly was, it seemed.

"Most of all," he breathed, trying to soak in the warmth of that glorious chest before he woke up, "I want to forget you."

Dream-Sam froze for a bare instant, but maybe Gabriel just imagined it, because his embrace softened a moment later. He said nothing, but kept holding him tight. But Gabriel couldn't stand the silence, so he kept babbling.

"I want to… to forget… how you make me feel," he slurred, voice muffled against Dream-Sam's chest. "I'm so fucking jealous I can't stand it."

Dream-Sam shifted, and Gabriel could imagine he stared down at him.

"Jealous?" he asked, his voice confused.

"Of your… mmm… mate." Gabriel blinked his eyes, and tried to tip his head back enough to stare up at Dream-Sam. "So damn jealous of them. Want to be him so bad."

Gabriel tipped his head too far back, and would have fallen backwards off the couch if Dream-Sam hadn't held him so tightly. So he flopped his head forward again—the only thing he could do—and laughed as tears flowed from his eyes. He laughed and wept and it had nothing to do with humor.

"Gabriel," Not-Sam breathed. "I—."

"But don't you worry, angel," he choked out between laughing and sobbing, "I'm gonna send you home. I know I don't get to have you, even if I'm a lovesick idiot and wish I could. But I promise I'm going to make sure you get to the mate you've been searching for all your life."

His eyes drifted shut, his weight leaning against Sam. "Gonna… gonna send you home. Gonna find a way… you deserve… to be happy. Don't matter if it's not with me."

Not-Sam said nothing for a long while.

"If your goal is to unite me with my mate," Sam murmured, voice careful, "you shall find the task far easier than you might imagine."

The not-angel's chest felt warm, and Gabriel snuggled into it, trying to enjoy the moment as much as he could before he woke up. "Mmm. Good." He yawned, and shivered in the chilled air of the room. "Gonna… gonna do right by you, angel. Gonna—."

"Shush," Dream-Sam breathed, drawing a nearby blanket around Gabriel's back, and tugging him closer. "Do not fret any longer. We shall speak on it, but we should not have this conversation while you remain intoxicated."

Something about the statement tickled in his mind, but Gabriel felt inclined to forget it. After all, his dreams of Not-Sam never went this well.

"Mmm," he mustered, by way of response. "Sleepy."

"Rest," Not-Sam said. "I shall watch over you."

It sounded like a damn fine idea. He hated when these dreams ended, no matter the bitter, ugly loneliness he would feel when he awakened. But if he could get a comfortable night of sleep, he'd take it.

* * *

When Gabriel woke up, he had a headache the size of Texas, and he felt like he hadn't had a drink of water in days.

He tried very hard to remember what had happened to give him such a nasty headache. Had he gone and gotten himself clobbered in the head again? But the scent of whiskey greeted his nose, and… oh boy. Okay. He had a monster hangover. At least the room felt warm.

But wait. Where _was_ he?

He blinked his eyes open, and the dim, predawn glow made his head throb. He'd come to love the blue hour, but even this faint light brought him agony.

He had gotten downstairs, somehow. On the couch, with a blanket. And….

Gabriel _froze_ , his mind instantly wide-awake. He felt immense warmth because he laid half-splayed on top of a sleeping _archangel_.

Just what the actual fuck had happened last night?

He stared down at Sam, and at himself, and the blanket tucked around his shoulders. Okay. They both wore clothing. No funny smells other than the sour whiskey and the dusty blanket. Nothing… nothing R-rated had happened, it seemed. Good.

He tried to force himself to relax, because if he moved, Sam would wake up, and this was most definitely not a dream. He'd never get another chance to know what it felt like waking up next to this beautiful angel. He just wished it came without the awful hangover.

But as he laid there, his mind kept wandering back to the fuzzy, dreamlike components of the night before. He'd drank. He'd cried. He'd been miserable about Sati. He'd said he'd given up. He'd promised Sam he'd find a way to send him home. He'd—.

Gabriel inhaled sharply through his nostrils.

Sweet Jesus, he'd gone and blabbered to Sam about his _feelings_. He didn't remember saying the L-word, but Sam wasn't an idiot. He would know what Gabriel meant.

 _'We shall speak on it, but we should not have this conversation while you remain intoxicated.'_

Gabriel all but leapt up from the couch, panicked and upset and so fucking embarrassed. Sam jerked awake beneath him, the foggy confusion of sleep heavy in his eyes.

"Gabriel?" he breathed. "What…?"

But Gabriel couldn't speak. For the first time since they'd met, Gabriel stared at Sam with open terror, because he'd well gone and fucked everything up now. Now Sam knew, and the angel wanted to _talk_ about it.

Nope. Too much nope. Gabriel couldn't. Wouldn't.

Sam's confusion faded, and morphed to concern. "Why are you fright—?"

"No," Gabriel rasped, backing away, nearly tripping over the table in the process. "I can't."

Sam bolted upright, stumbling to his feet in a less-than-graceful motion. He reached a hand in Gabriel's direction, which only made him back away faster.

"Wait!" Sam pleaded. "Please!"

But Gabriel couldn't wait. He turned tail and ran, rushing for the stairs. He grabbed clothes that would at least prevent hypothermia, and dressed in record time, racing back down the stairs.

Sam had stopped advancing on him, and remained frozen. He almost looked frightened.

Gabriel grabbed his keys from the wall hook. "I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have… said those things. I was drunk, I—."

"Please, stop," Sam begged.

"I can't. I'm sorry. I… I can't. I'm so sorry."

He unbolted the door….

"Stop and listen to me for _one moment_!" Sam pleaded, and he almost sounded desperate. "You do not understand!"

Gabriel froze, just for a moment, terrified and so ashamed of himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to keep tears from escaping.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, and fled outside.

* * *

Gabriel had known he couldn't hide from Sam all day, though he skipped both breakfast and lunch trying. He worked on the planters. He repaired a broken axle on one combine. He took his truck for a spin around the entire two-hundred acre farm, just to quadruple check that they hadn't missed burning any blighted corn (they hadn't). He worked on anything and everything he could find to prevent him from returning to the farmhouse.

He didn't know what frightened him most: facing Sam, or returning to find him gone forever.

Gabriel felt confident he could put it off until nightfall. He could deal with sneaking in by cover of darkness, eating something cold and gross, and falling into bed before any chance for conversation could come up. Cas and Sati would come back by nightfall, too, and so he'd have a buffer of sorts.

But again, what if Sam had already left? How would he explain _that_ to them?

But fate, as it would have it, decided it would have none of that. Just as Gabriel sat in his truck, agonizing over what he should or shouldn't do, he noticed the wind picking up, carrying dust in the air, made all the darker and thicker with heavy ash.

He could see a wave-like crest on the far horizon, and his stomach dropped. A huge squall had stirred up the dust and ash, and a storm headed straight for them. Cas and Sati wouldn't dare try to return home now. And Gabriel? He couldn't survive the storm outside, so he'd have to go back, too.

With reluctance, he put his truck in gear and sped back to the farmhouse, only just beating the storm inside. As he slammed the front door shut behind him, he coughed harshly, unable to catch his breath for the ash he'd breathed in.

A warm, solid hand rested on his back, another on his shoulder, holding Gabriel while he coughed.

"Easy," Sam murmured. "It will pass."

And Gabriel could feel it passing, literally, as a warm, flutter of barely-there Grace warmed his lungs, emptying them, clearing his breath once more.

His arms trembling, he stood upright, and stared up into Sam's eyes.

He looked so torn. Gabriel couldn't imagine what he must be thinking.

"I'm going to… to take a shower and clean myself up," he rasped, turning his head away. He couldn't stare at the angel, didn't dare meet his eyes.

"I prepared food for you," Sam told him, his voice soft. Hesitant.

Gabriel swallowed around a lump in his throat, staring at a dark, knobby spot on the wall.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Sam sighed. "You've not eaten all day." And after a beat. "I shall leave the room while you eat, I promise. Just… _please_ eat."

Gabriel met his eyes, shocked. "Why are _you_ leaving the room? _I'm_ the one who fucked up."

Sam just stared back, his shoulders slumped and his face twisted in pain.

"You said you could not abide speaking of it, so I shall respect your wishes."

And without another word, he stalked past Gabriel and up the stairs.

* * *

He did eat. His body needed food, even though he didn't have much of an appetite.

He spent longer in the shower than he should have. The water felt hot and cleansing, and he needed the reminder that some things were still good in the world. Maybe things could be okay after all. He had some things to work on in the lab. He had fresh samples of the blighted winter corn to study. He worked on Sam's Grace as an ongoing project. He had solar cells to repair and panels to build, and by the spring planting, the planters would perhaps have the ability to drive themselves all day.

As he moved around in the kitchen, contemplating what he'd work on in the lab, he heard Sam moving about two floors above him. His footsteps weren't heavy, but he obviously paced the room. The angel never paced, and it left Gabriel with a pang of guilt.

Yeah, Gabriel had kind of been an ass to Sam, and had ruined his mood. He sighed. The angel was right. They _did_ need to talk about it.

But just as he considered what he might say, to his immense surprise, the door flung open, and Cas barreled through with Sati, Dean and his daughter Emma on his heels. They slammed the door shut in a hurry. The suction of the wind from the storm pulled so hard in those brief moments that the floor trembled.

Gabriel stared slack-jawed, looking on as the four stood before him, covered head-to-toe in thick, ashen dust, coughing violently.

His mind caught up with him, and he raced to get them water. He heard footsteps racing down the stairs, and didn't have to turn around to know Sam had all but leapt down the last flight.

Sati ran immediately into Sam's arms, who picked her up and held her close, his hand flat on her back. Gabriel could well imagine he used his spare Grace to ease away the pain in her lungs, and sure enough, she stopped coughing.

"Castiel," the angel all but growled. "How could you bring the children out in such a fierce dust storm?"

Gabriel approached them with giant glasses of water. "Cas, I knew you were stupid sometimes, but you've graduated to a new level of brainless. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"The storm struck as we made our way to town," Cas choked out, struggling against great hacking coughs. He sucked down gulp after gulp of water.

"We tried to navigate back to my place," Dean told him, also downing the water at a record pace, "but yours is closer, and easier to reach. So we took our sweet time and drove through all the muck."

Sam approached them, and somehow he'd gotten ahold of a towel. He offered it to Dean, who turned his attentions to cleaning Emma's face.

"You have been stranded out there all these hours?" he breathed, all anger gone from his voice.

"Yep," Dean told him. "Tried to wait it out, but…."

"It became clear we could not remain. Dust seeped into my car from cracks in the windows."

Dean glanced up at Gabriel. "Bad time to ask, but can the kid and I crash here tonight, until the storm passes?"

Gabriel nodded, though he had no idea where he'd put them. He had one spare bedroom, and that room had become Sam's by this point. And—.

"We're low on space," Cas said, "but we have a couch and two recliners in the sitting room."

Dean nodded gratefully, but Sam shook his head.

"No," he said. "You may take my room. It has a proper bed."

His eyebrows rose. "Not that I mind the gesture, but where is a giant like you going to sleep?"

Sam faltered a moment, then smiled. "I shall sleep down here."

He glanced around him, to the tiny couch in the sitting room. "Your legs will hang off of it. You'll wake up miserable."

When Sam seemed a bit lost for words, Gabriel stepped in.

"This moose of ours can sleep anywhere," he huffed with fake irritation. "I've seen him sleep like a baby on the floor."

Sam met his eyes, and they went bright with gratitude.

"I've even slept on a long road trip," Sam added, turning back to Dean, "even on terrible roads. It is a fortunate trait of mine, I suppose."

Cas glanced between Gabriel and Sam, his eyes narrowing for a moment. Yeah, always the perceptive one. He'd seen the change in the atmosphere between them immediately, even in such awful circumstances.

Gabriel turned to Sam, and shrugged. "You can always sleep in my bed, and I'll take the couch. Normal-sized people like me can fit just fine."

Sam had opened his mouth to respond, but Cas broke in.

"Gabriel, isn't the couch in your lab quite large? I believe it would hold Sam." And after a beat, "And I am certain he would not touch any of your equipment or experiments."

It sounded as good of an idea as any, so Gabriel nodded. "Sure, if that's okay with him."

Sam nodded. "Of course."

His eyes held too much sadness, too much anguish to stare at for long. Gabriel turned back to Dean and forced himself to smile.

"There's plenty of water for showers. There's not much hot water left, but we have soap and everything you need to scrub yourselves clean."

He smiled, not his usual smirk, but a real smile. "Thanks, Gabe."

He stood and winked at Cas, his hands covering his daughter's ears. "Cheer up, Cas-si-el," he whispered. "If we didn't have _company_ in the house, I'd invite myself into your bed."

Cas flushed, his cheeks a deep shade of red. "Not now, Dean," he chided.

Gabriel blinked. And blinked again. He'd suspected Cas had been sneaking off to see Meg, not _Dean_. Apparently, they'd already become far closer than he'd ever dreamed.

Sam looked on, his eyes narrow. "Cassiel?" he asked.

Dean laughed, and he threw an arm around Cas, who chuckled himself.

"Oh, it's an old joke," he said. "I call him Cassie or Cassiel because he's like some kind of mythical, goody-two-shoes angel. There's actually this old angel in the lore named Cassiel." He sighed. "Too bad the angels weren't as nice as we'd thought they'd be, eh?"

Sam's smile faded minutely, and if Gabriel hadn't spent almost a year memorizing the lines of his face, he might not have noticed.

"They were monstrous," Sam answered him, and he seemed almost ashamed. "I do not understand how they could have left yo—us all here with nothing but broken promises."

He sighed, and shrugged. "It's just how it happened. No point trying to figure out 'why' anymore. They're gone and not coming back."

Sam smiled at him again, but it didn't reach his eyes. He set Sati down, and patted the top of her head. "I shall go fetch the lot of you fresh towels and clean clothing. And Dean, I shall change the linens on my bed for you and the little one."

Gabriel opened his mouth, on the cusp of telling Sam how he would help, but the angel had already gone, hopping up the stairs in leaps and bounds.

Dean stared after him. "Formal guy, that one," he said. "You said this friend of yours came up here from Arizona, Cas?"

Cas nodded, as though it were the absolute truth. Cas had a true skill for lying, gained during his time as a hunter, and it unnerved Gabriel at times.

"Yuma," he said. "He worked the last plantain fields on the Mexican border before the blight consumed them. After the deep water wells ran dry in the Sonoran Desert, and the corn crops collapsed a year ago, he left and made his way here."

Gabriel stared up at the steps, feeling a million swirling emotions at once.

"He's been amazing help around here," he said, voice hushed, and thought he could feel his heart cracking. "Not sure how we would have survived the last harvest without him."

He grinned, and winked at Gabriel. "I bet you'd _love_ to keep him around."

He snorted. "It's not like that, Dean."

Except, yeah, it was _totally_ like that. And it had just blown up and they hadn't even had time to sort out the pieces yet. If Gabriel hadn't spent the whole day hiding, maybe they would have made some progress.

"Besides," he continued, gesturing with his arm, "if you're going to tease me about being single again, I'm going to torment you about dating my little brother."

He laughed. "I never gave you shit about being single! I teased you about not getting laid." He crossed his arms, and even dusty and covered with ash, he managed to look imposing. "Besides, how many times have I offered to hook you up? I know some farmers, I'm telling you."

Sati glanced between them. "Dad, what does 'getting laid' mean?"

Gabriel grimaced. "Absolutely _nothing_ ," he huffed, and tugged her arm towards the shower. "Nothing at all."

He could hear Dean laughing hysterically as they rounded the corner.


	20. Chapter 20

Sati had showered first, followed by Emma. Afterwards, the pair of them hurried upstairs to play in Sati's room. While Sam kept a watchful eye on the children, Dean and Cas sauntered into shower—together. Gabriel didn't even want to think about what the pair were doing in there.

While they showered, he heard Sam climbing the stairs to the third floor, presumably setting the room up for Dean and Emma. Gabriel felt a pang of guilt again, and knew they had to talk about it. They _had_ to. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but soon. And if Sam decided to leave, well, Gabriel had no one to blame but himself. He'd have to live with it.

Before he had much time to think it through, his legs carried him up the stairs, and he found himself knocking on Sam's door.

When the angel answered, he stared down at Gabriel and seemed terribly confused.

"Are they ready for the room yet?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Still in the shower."

They stood in silence a moment, staring at each other. With each passing second, Sam seemed more and more upset, which was sort of not what Gabriel had in mind.

Sam broke the silence first.

"Are you… Are you going to ask me to leave?"

Gabriel blinked. That was _not_ what he'd been expecting.

"Uh… no. That's not… no. I _wouldn't_ do that." He shook his head, shaking away the confusion. "This is your home as long as you want to stay, Sam. I promised you that." Gabriel paused, awkwardly scratching at his hair. "Though I could see why you'd want to leave, what with me being such an ass."

Sam huffed, and turned his head aside. "Why must you persist in speaking so poorly of yourself?" More statement than question, and more exhausted than irritated.

"That's just how I am, kiddo," Gabriel told him. "I'm an ass to everyone, _especially_ myself."

Sam turned back towards him, his gaze forlorn. "Can you truly not see your value to those around you?"

Nope. This conversation had already gone places he didn't want to visit.

"Look, I…. Can we not? At least, not right now? I'm tired. You're tired. It's not the best time."

Sam sighed, but relented. "As you wish. What do you require of me, then?"

"Well, I'm doing some work down in the lab, and I wondered if you wanted to come down and help me." He shrugged. "Since you'll be sleeping down there anyway, I also sort of wanted to make sure you didn't mind if I worked for a while."

Sam lowered his eyes, his jaw dropping. If it had been any other situation, the expression of shock on the angel's face might have been hilarious. Right now, it made his stomach churn, anxiety skittering across his skin.

Gabriel stuck his hands in his pockets, and knew he'd descended into rambling at this point, but didn't care. "But if you don't want me around, I won't hang around. I'll work on my stuff tomorrow." He turned his head away, unable to meet Sam's intense gaze.

The angel remained silent a long moment. "I thought you did not wish to see me," Sam murmured, his voice careful, "much less speak with me."

Gabriel sighed. "Look, you don't have to. I just thought… you know, maybe you wouldn't want to stay cooped up in there all night all alone." He shrugged, trying to look uncaring and casual, and failing by a mile. "Or you could come down and watch me work, and you wouldn't have to do anything. 'Couse, I could see why you wouldn't want me around either. I haven't exactly been nice to you today, especially after you kept an eye on me when I got smashed last night."

The faintest hint of a smile curved the corner of Sam's lips. "You wish to accompany me downstairs?"

"Yeah. Why not? I mean, unless the thought bores you. If so, I totally understand. You don't have—."

"No," Sam interrupted, his voice rushed. He cleared his throat. "That is, I would enjoy that, but you owe me nothing, Gabriel." He paused, and those sad, worried eyes met his own. "You should only do so if it's what you wish."

Gabriel kind of felt like he owed Sam a lot, but it probably wasn't the time to say so just yet. Sure, it all felt awkward, and they couldn't avoid having the talk forever, but maybe they could just sit and chat comfortably for a while. They could act like they always had, before Gabriel had gone and gotten so drunk he'd ruined everything.

Gabriel smiled, warm, but guarded. "Yeah, I really do."

* * *

Dean and Cas didn't stay in the shower long. The hot water ran out, apparently, and he heard too much noise and laughter for the late hour. They emerged a few minutes later, wet hair and all.

Laughter. Joy. Gabriel envied them both, more than a little. He felt so _tired_.

Cas wore his own clothing, while Dean wore an ill-fitting outfit of Sam's. He swam in extra fabric.

As they made their way down to the basement lab, Dean and Cas made their way up.

"Tuck Sati in for me, will you?" he asked Cas.

"We'll even sing her a lullaby," Dean drawled.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I said 'tuck her in.' Not terrify her."

He chuckled, and so did Gabriel, and for once, everything felt somewhat easier.

"Don't worry," Cas told him, and it seemed like he knew something… but Gabriel would have to deliver the awful news later. "We'll take care of her."

"Thank you, Sam," Dean said, all sweetness and polite to him. "It's so nice of you to let us stay in your bed."

The angel smiled, warm and bright. "Think nothing of it. Rest well with your little one. The window will rattle during the storm, but do not let it worry you. Gabriel and I've sealed it from the dust."

They all squeezed by one another in the stairway, and Gabriel paused only long enough to heat up the last of the atole Sam had made earlier (Sati and Emma had drank most of it). Sam declined, and so Gabriel ended up with a giant cup all to himself. All the better, because the night had grown cold, and he needed something to warm him.

As they descended into the basement lab, Sam set about covering the couch with the sheets he'd obtained upstairs. The old linens had long lost their beauty, speckled with stains and loose threads. The angel topped his makeshift bed off with a single blanket crocheted from old, acrylic yarn. Warm, but itchy.

Gabriel tried not to stare; tried not to notice Sam at all as he unpacked his equipment from the cabinet. He wanted to take a quick glance at the blighted leaves and see if they would cross-contaminate a sample of spring corn.

If it did, well, they were all in serious trouble. But these strains usually took time to leap from plant to plant, and even if one plant became contaminated, it didn't mean they'd lose the whole crop.

Besides, they had immense food stores, enough to last the four of them a year or more. And if Sam choose to eat less, which he could occasionally do, they could stretch the supplies further. And they might find more food hidden back in the ghost town, whenever they had a chance to go back.

Sam had finished making the couch into a makeshift bed by the time Gabriel had unpacked his microscope. The angel sat quietly atop the folded blanket, staring at him as he always did during these nights down in the lab.

Just, you know, further away.

Gabriel carefully sliced a section of the blighted winter corn stem, and spread it on a slide. One tiny squeeze of dye, and he pushed the slide underneath his microscope, turning the light beneath and above the glass up. He hadn't made the slice thin enough, or maybe he'd used too much dye, but he had a hard time getting a clear glimpse of the plant's structure.

But even though his view could've been better, he saw enough. Tiny spores swarmed everywhere, eating up the blighted plant around them. They multiplied and spread through the plant at an alarming rate. Even already destroyed, the spores would not stop until they had ruined every cell within the plant. It was a brilliant plague to curse humanity with: slow, but deadly. After all the drama of the Apocalypse and the broken promises and the fifty million other ways they could have all died, it would be this persistent, troublesome blight which would ruin them in the end.

Now, he just had to compare the samples to the ones he had in storage. He'd start with the early spring corn preserved in paraffin wax, and move on from there. Since they'd grow the early spring corn in the next planting season, it seemed necessary to examine it next.

"Hey, Sam," he said, not glancing up. "Would you bring me one of the unblighted samples of spring corn?"

He heard the couch creak behind him, and Sam's barely-there footsteps as he crossed the room to the far corner, where the specimen cabinet stood. The doors creaked open, and Gabriel forced himself not to turn around and stare as he listened to Sam sorting through the tablets of paraffin.

He stared down at his microscope, but his eyes went blank, unable to focus on anything. He had something else growing on his mind, and he had to get it out before he burst with it.

"I'm sorry about this morning," Gabriel said, refusing to glance up.

The noise of Sam's hands stuttered, but after a moment, continued. "You've nothing to apologize for."

"I'm pretty sure I do," Gabriel argued, daring to lift his eyes and face Sam. "I freaked out and ran away. I shouldn't have done that."

Sam did not turn to face him, but Gabriel noted the tilt of his head. The angel listened intently, his hands pausing over the samples.

"You were overwhelmed," he replied, lowering his head to stare at the numerous samples.

Gabriel blinked. "Why are you trying to defend me?" he asked, stunned.

This time, Sam said nothing, instead continuing to sort through the samples. He retrieved one, holding the whitish block between his thumb and forefinger. He turned to face Gabriel for the first time in the conversation, and he seemed like he wanted to bolt from the room… and also like he feared Gabriel might do the same.

No. Gabriel wouldn't turn tail and hide this time. He had to face it.

Sam approached, holding out the carefully-labeled sample out to Gabriel.

He didn't take it. "I asked a question," he repeated. When Sam didn't answer, when he cast his eyes to the ground, Gabriel pushed just a little harder. "Please?"

The angel lifted his eyes to meet Gabriel's, and he felt so guilty. He opened his mouth, just about to tell him he didn't have to answer anything he didn't want to—.

"Because," Sam began, waving his free hand in an awkward motion. "Because these are painful, touchy subjects. It's too easy to give into a desire to flee from them." He paused, setting the sample on the table when Gabriel wouldn't take it himself. "Besides, I have done similar things in my own time. I have… kept secrets."

"Secrets aren't a good thing, though," Gabriel told him.

Sam tilted his head, considering. "I am not certain I agree, not in totality," he countered, and that surprised Gabriel.

"How so?"

Sam did something approximating a shrug, turning to stalk back to the cabinet. As he secured it shut, he sighed. "Secrets protect us, sometimes."

Gabriel took the paraffin in hand, eyeing the green sample within. "But it's a false sense of security. It's not real."

"Yes, I suppose so," the angel agreed. "Sometimes."

The words comforted Gabriel more than he cared to admit, and before he even realized it, he felt an exhale of relief passing his lips—and he didn't even know why. Before Sam could turn around and peer at him, or stare in the way he did, or ask after him, Gabriel set about working on a new slide, cutting into a section of the preserved spring corn from last year. Even sealed in the wax, the stem remained a dark, rich green under the light as he sliced a tiny portion free.

As he made the slide, and set it underneath the microscope, Sam began to speak again.

"This morning," he said, "I asked you to wait. I said you did not understand."

Gabriel flinched, but he kept his gaze firmly upon the eyepiece of the microscope, adjusting until the cell walls of the plant came into focus.

"Would you hear me out now?" Sam inquired.

Gabriel's hands shook on the knobs, the word 'yes' on his lips, and his heart beating quickly. But just then, something caught his eye, and...

"Sam," he breathed, his stomach flipping with an altogether different anxiety. Because the preserved corn, the _healthy_ corn he'd sealed away for future study was _blighted_.

He all but flung the slide from the microscope, and it cracked on the lab table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam flinch, but Gabriel didn't have time to pay him much mind. He grasped the paraffin sample again, thrusting the entire thing underneath the microscope and focusing all the light he could on the sample.

He couldn't see much, but what he could see scared the hell out of him. Blighted. All of it. It still appeared green and healthy, but somehow the exact same spores which had infected the winter corn had found their way underneath the paraffin, lying dormant. In wait.

Sam approached him, discerning something entirely unrelated to their conversation had happened. "What is it?"

Gabriel stared up at him, eyes wide. "Get me more samples."

The angel's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Which—."

"Bring me a handful," Gabriel interrupted. Bring me any of them, I don't care! Just do it!"

Sam rushed back to the cabinet with purpose, pulling it open and bringing a handful of different samples. Even in his hurry, he'd set them down in somewhat of an order. The early spring corn sat on one side, the late summer corn beside it, and the last samples of old crops of winter corn on the far side.

Gabriel grabbed one at random and thrust it underneath the microscope, hoping he did not see what he had seen before. And of course he did, and when he pulled the sample away to see the label, he noted it was a seven-year-old sample of late summer corn.

"Oh, god," he breathed, and grabbed another sample. He paused a moment to stare at the label first—spring corn—and pushed the whole sample under his microscope lens. More blight, impossibly sealed below the impenetrable layers of paraffin.

He had to hand it to Lucifer. His method of making everything go bad all at once was a goddamn accomplishment. They fought against a fucking magical blight.

No, not magical. Angelic. Archangelic. A creature with all the might and power of the universe had cursed them, and maybe this curse had taken its final swing.

He took sample after sample and examined it—Sam still organized them, quickly arranging them according to date and type—but Gabriel only witnessed the same thing over and over again. In every sample of every type swarmed the newest strain of blight, dormant and waiting beneath layers of paraffin.

He slowly lowered himself down into his chair, a numb shock settling over him. Sam still moved with alarm, arranging the samples in a frenzy, but Gabriel reached out and laid a hand over his, stilling his motions.

"Stop," he breathed, and the angel froze, the lines of his face twisted with worry. "We're done here."

The angel stared at him, his mouth opening and shutting, worried and confused. Gabriel didn't know what to tell him. He'd meant to check the corn to see if it _could_ be contaminated. He didn't expect to find out the blight had taken its final, deadly swing.

"We're done," he repeated. "It's all over."

"Gabriel...?"

But he had no answers for him, no sense to make of this, and no words of comfort. The end of the world had come about for real, now. No one would survive. If their food stores held out, they'd make it a few years, but with nothing new to grow, the future looked bleak indeed.

"What is it?" Sam repeated. "What do you see?"

Gabriel stared up at him and tried to answer; tried to make his voice work. Instead, his voice made a vague croak, and he began to weep.

Sam's eyes widened, and a heavy hand rested on his shoulder, his face a mask of concern. But Gabriel couldn't stand to see such sympathy, and folded over his chair, arms crossed and face hidden behind them. He felt exhausted in every way as tears snaked out of his eyes. He felt so tired, and... and... here stood Sam, who stared at their work as though the world hadn't just met its end.

His warm, huge hand squeezed his shoulder, and Gabriel didn't glance up. Couldn't. Not if he didn't want to bawl like a child. All of it was blighted. _All_ of it. They had no hope.

When he didn't reply to Sam, or even move, the angel sighed. "I shall put away the materials."

Gabriel remained frozen in place, slumped over and arms folded over his head, while Sam meticulously put away everything, even the cracked slide. Gabriel didn't watch, but he could hear the sound of tinkling glass, soft and careful and precise, probably because the angel knew how much care Gabriel paid to his lab materials. And because he valued it so much, Sam had made it of great importance to himself, too.

And Gabriel had nearly left him to die, almost a year ago, in a mix of anger and hysteria and fear. And now, and _now_... he loved him, and... Oh god, what if he'd _actually_ left him there to die, all that time ago?

And at the thought, he sobbed, loud and uncontained. The stress of the day, of worrying over what he'd said the night before, the strained conversation between him and Sam, and everything else just became too much.

All movement in the room stopped. An overwarm body materialized at his side, and the comforting hand returned to his shoulder. Sam kneeled, his eye level lower than Gabriel, but he could not meet the angel's eyes. Couldn't.

Sam wouldn't have any of that, and threaded his arms right through Gabriel's, tugging gently for him to lift his head. Still giving him the chance to hide. Always leaving the door open so he could run away.

But asking, just maybe, for him not to.

But Gabriel tensed, and thought about fleeing again; about running away as he'd done earlier in the morning. But the angel lifted his chin, his eyes full of concern.

"You want to flee from me again," he breathed, a statement.

Gabriel wanted to laugh, to smile, to joke, to do anything other than admit the truth. But he had no laughter left in him. It had all dried up, lost in the wind, turned to ash and blown away with the dust.

"Yes," he croaked between tears.

The kneeling angel stared back at him, his face somewhere between apprehension and fear and wonder.

"Stay," Sam breathed, leaning forward, pressing his forehead against Gabriel's.

He felt so much terror, his heart beating rabbit-fast. He didn't feel like a conversation anymore, but he knew one loomed overhead.

" _Stay_ ," Sam repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "Please."

He stared back at the angel, whose eyes pleaded with him, and whose hands shook. Frightened because he thought Gabriel would run away again.

"Okay," he managed to choke out. "Okay."

The angel breathed a sigh of relief, and reached out to brush Gabriel's hair from his eyes.

"Gabriel," he murmured, searching his face for answers, never once breaking his intense gaze. Maybe he searched for answers for what had happened last night, or all the running Gabriel had done today.

But he probably wondered why he sat there, sobbing at his lab desk.

"It's all blighted," he croaked. "All of it. The samples which couldn't possibly be blighted, they're all…" He shook his head, unable to finish.

"But," Sam breathed, "they're sealed in paraffin—."

"This blight takes everything at once," Gabriel croaked. "It takes all the seeds, the plants, the banks, takes them all at the same time. It's a curse, not a real blight."

Sam looked on, his gaze turned dark, his lips parted. " _All_ of it is blighted?"

Gabriel nodded pitifully. "We're all gonna die here, Sam," he said, and the tears flowed again, and the trembling came with it. "We're... we're gonna starve. And I got you stuck here, and—."

"No," Sam interrupted, leaning forward to press his forehead against Gabriel's. "We will fix this. And you did not strand me here."

His forehead, and the arms around his shoulders, felt solid and warm, and he couldn't help but lean back against him. He could allow himself a moment of weakness while considering the ultimate end of the world, right?

Sam's warm hand swiped over his cheek, fingertips wiping at his tears, and to Gabriel's great surprise, Sam's lips replaced his fingers. They felt dry and soft against his cheek, and Gabriel had no desire to pull away, no matter Sam's reasons. Even pity. He'd take pity right now.

"Gabriel Novak. Look upon me," he said, voice soft and firm. "Now."

He did as commanded, and found bright, hazel eyes close to his own, bright and warm and full of life. So full of life.

"You saved not only my life, but my very spirit," he breathed, hands ghosting across Gabriel's cheeks. "I had no hope. I had no future. My life had become naught but misery, and I had become a lost nomad with no home. You've given it all back to me, Gabriel, and you've asked for nothing in return."

He felt tears streaming down his face, his vision of Sam blurring from behind the wetness.

"Let me give it back to you, now," he said, his thumbs stroking his cheeks. "Let me return hope to your heart." One hand slid down, lower, pressing open-palmed against his chest. Jesus.

"We shall fix this. No one else shall die by this blight." The angel never broke eye contact, his gaze soft, but determined. "You've asked me to have faith in you before. Now I ask you to place your faith in me. Together, we shall find a way. We _shall_."

Gabriel sobbed. So youthful. A creature older than this universe, sounding young and new as it kneeled before him. Him! An archangel kneeling upon a dusty, dirty floor, when he should instead stand somewhere inconceivably far away, bathed in light and beauty. He had day-old stubble, dust in his lungs, and a limp in his left leg that still gave him pain, all when he should stand in none other than the glory of God Himself. Not the deadbeat God of this universe, but something higher. Something holier and brighter and more worthy of a servant like Sam.

He understood now, perhaps for the first time in his entire life, what 'holy' truly meant. And it was dusty and unkempt, and kneeling in front of him, as though Gabriel could ever be worthy of such a presence; as though anything that touched Sam, even the air, could aspire to brush against such divinity.

"Holy," he said, spoken with reverence, trembling. A statement. His fingers reached out to touch the lips of the creature who spoke such impossible things. "Archangel of the Lord."

Sam froze, his eyebrows knitting together in surprise. Or confusion. Probably that. "Gabriel?" he murmured, breath hot and moist against Gabriel's fingers.

Nonsense flowed through his head. In his misery, some old Bible verse he'd read long ago somehow found its way out of his head.

"For the Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven," he breathed, leaning closer to Sam, "with the voice of the archangel."

Sam remained frozen in place, silently staring back.

"Voice of the archangel," Gabriel repeated, half-drunk on the feeling of Sam's breath against his fingers. "Sam... Samael." He didn't even know what he babbled anymore, tears snaking down his face. "Holy archangel. _The_ holy archangel."

His free hand trembled, and moved to touch Sam's cheek. The lightest, most ghostly touch he could manage, but entirely reverent; as though his other hand didn't still obscenely press against Sam's lips.

Sam's hand closed around his wrist, slowly pulling away his fingers, and even through his sobbing he whined in protest. But then Sam's lips were on his face; his cheeks, his jawline, trailing across the hollow of his throat. And Gabriel was lost, clinging to him and half mad with the need for him. For any of him. For any scraps he'd throw to the floor for him.

"Do you not already know," Sam murmured, breath hot against his throat, "how desperately in love with you I've fallen?"

Gabriel made a noise, somewhere between a choke and a sob, and his fingers threaded in Sam's hair, pulling him closer. The angel reached up and pulled him down, down from his chair to his knees, tugging him up to his lap until no space existed between them at all.

"I wanted to tell you this morning," he breathed, holding Gabriel close to him. "I only wished to tell you I felt the same."


End file.
